DBZ 14: Critical Mass
by Tengou
Summary: Bulma discovers a space ship trapped in Jupiter's orbit. A mission is scheduled to ascertain the situation. The Z fighters: Astronauts? This is a writing experiment. Please R&R criticism welcomed, so I know how to proceed.
1. Rumble in Satan City

CHAPTER ONE: RUMBLE IN SATAN CITY

_The dark depths of space have always been a fascination to the human species. Ever since they could think, the sky has been something to strive for. Objects that float in it were revered as gods; the sun, the moon, the stars and planets became gods in ancient pantheons. Myths surrounding this phenomenon, that envelops our little world entirely, have gradually been debunked, until the theories surrounding its whither-tos and why-fors have become a thing of science, and at that state everything in the heavens above our heads that inspired our sense of God was thought to be lost in the holy books that we wrote millennia ago. For ages, we have thought that we lived our lives on a flat plane, a halo that had an outer edge, and that anything that ventured beyond this edge would be lost forever, even the very water that made up our oceans. The heavens, for that matter, were thought a dome atop of our heads, engulfing our plane like the glass sphere of a snow globe, our atmosphere locked within. Back then, the sky was an insoluble marvel, and the obsolescent ideas about heaven and earth formed a vital cornerstone of our religions, the same religions that forced in the dark those few great minds that would dispute these views. People like Galileo Galilei and Johannes Kepler were some of these minds believed linked to the early Illuminati; scientific minds as well as philosophers with innovative theories concerning unorthodox sciences; minds forced underground by the overwhelming influence of the Catholic church. Earth's flatness was the first thing to be disputed, Earth's centrality the second, as a concise model of the solar system was created, with the sun at its center. From this point on, the heavens seemed to have lost most of their charms. With each axiom founded and each theory proven, they lost a bit of their magic; eclipses were no longer signs of things to come, but were reduced to a careful play of planetary shadows, night and day and the phases of the moon itself reduced to an intricate labor of multiple heavenly bodies and their gravitational pulls. Our knowledge of the solar system and what lied beyond increased immensely over the last five centuries of mankind's existence until finally all pretenses were shattered when for the first time, a flesh and blood human set foot upon the moon. We live in a world where we can predict when eclipses occur, when planets are where, and even when an asteroid would hit. We have observed. We have compared. We have put microscopic science to use in a macroscopic environment, but for all the millions of heavenly bodies that we have discovered, tagged and researched, the only place we know for sure that life exists is here on Earth. Is there life anywhere else in the universe, or are the evolutionary conditions that start the process in which life giving molecules are built, occurring only here on our green Earth?_

A sigh could be heard, the sound of an office chair creaking as one continually shifts one's weight, the soft tapping of the heel of a shoe against the carpet. A minute or so after the sigh, a grunt came and a hand slapped down bluntly upon the edge of the wooden desk. Son Gohan had a glare on his face that indicated a mixture of boredom and flummox, that single tuft of his short, spiky black hair flopping around very lightly in front of his face. He clearly did not know what he had to do. He slightly lunged to the front in order to place his elbow upon the table, and the palm of his hand came to carry the weight of his head_. "Pfff."_ An exhalation was slightly forced between clenched lips, creating a slightly deflating sound, the outline of his fingers slightly pressing up his cheek against his lower eyelid, before his free right hand relinquished its hold upon the computer mouse and moved towards his cup, which was filled with a sweet, aromatic coffee with brown sprinkles of mocha floating gently atop of the cream colored espresso layer. He lifted the cup to his mouth and took a thirsty gulp; it was half delicacy, half necessity; the sun had already fallen below the horizon and he was getting tired. It had been three hours already, and this was all that he had managed to type up. Another sigh escaped him, wondering why it was so hard for him to do this thing.

In his inability to concentrate his thoughts upon the task at hand, his attention had floated away from the computer screen in front of him. He looked out of the window now and then, enjoying the view of the trees close by, the sounds of the wind and the animals outside. He thought that at one point he heard Icarus' cawing, at which point he had almost lunged himself off his chair in order to hunch out of the window himself. Icarus. The poor creature had become so venerable; good natured Son Gohan had frequently bought him visits, bringing him food and caring for him as Icarus wasn't the youngest anymore. He knew that the creature would die soon, but somehow, he wasn't really sad. After all the fun they had together and all the hardships they've been through, he would not mourn. Icarus would go to the other world, and there he will be able to rest his wearied soul. Son Gohan, again not paying attention to the white screen, seemed to be taken hostage by his own roaming thoughts again. He was twenty-one now, if you would count the two year-long days that he had been training with his father Goku, within the Lookout's hyperbolic time-chamber. Young Gohan had all grown up, now a sophomore of Sociology to the University of Satan City, studying hard like his mother Chi-Chi intended. From the looks of him, one could hardly believe that he was still living with his parents and much younger brother under one roof. He was a very muscular lad, although the abundant tone often went lost underneath the spruce clothing that he wore in public, which often consisted of an ensemble of black or brown pantaloons with a white, crème or blue long sleeve blouse and black shoes polished to the point of shining. You are not the clothes you wear, that he knew, but it didn't make him try less. At home, however, he often chose to slacken his wardrobe to a more loose and fitting uniform; he has often taken to wear his father's choice clothing, which was the ubiquitous orange gi with blue underclothing and sash, as well as the comfortable blue boots that were great for walking and jumping around in. No doubt that these pieces of high performance footwear had their roots in Saiyan equipment technology. This outfit of choice what was he was wearing now.

After the third and final sigh lift his lips, he had enough. He righted himself, then slumped himself down on the office chair again, no longer wiggling about making light. He clenched his hands very gently around the armrests and shifted his weight until his back was fully supported by the leaning. Then, he rode the five-legged chair forward as to tightly secure him behind his desk. He hunched over the desk, slightly to the side of his computer monitor, and grasped from a shelf at the wall in front of him a book called _The Alien Controversy_. He started to page through it, while occasionally glancing around the room. Son Gohan had a very tidy room, the floor was wood, with carpet over it, a small, slightly curved chamber – due to the curvature of the house itself. His bed, which was fully made and smelled of fresh flowers, was standing against the wall, the door into his room was next to the foot end of this bed. The bed itself was fairly tall, as underneath it there were three cupboards with two horizontal sliding doors. The one that was open at this time contained several pairs of shoes, of a shiny brown and black, as well as shoe polishing kits for either color sitting against the side. Next to the head end of his bed there was the left side of the wooden desk he was sitting at, with an adjustable reading light standing on top of it. His computer mostly graced the mid of the desk; a grey keyboard and a 17 inch tube monitor taking in quite a bit of space, an optical mouse resting at the right hand side. The rest of his desk was empty save for a few books that he had neglected to put back in the many shelves that were suspended against the wall above the desk. To the right of the desk was a window, beneath which he had put a couple of potted plants. The other side of the room contained several closets for his wardrobe, and as no one was perfect, one of the closets, with its door slightly ajar, played host to a myriad of junk that was piled unceremoniously within. A small end table was standing in the last corner, on top of which a reasonably sized tube television was standing. On this television, there was a hat he wore as a little boy and the four star dragon ball still stood on top of it, almost majestically. The darkening evening cast its last glimmer, which reflected against the dragon ball's surface, and destracted him again. As he brought his hand out to his coffee and tasted it, he lurched and almost fell over backwards, complete with chair.

"_Blimey, it's gone cold! How long have I been musing here?"_ he asked himself out loud, his benevolent, dark eyes turning towards the window fully, a calm, slightly chilly breeze entering through the open window and causing the curtains to bulge inwards. The corners of his mouth slightly flinched as he gently kicked back his feet against the ground, rolling the chair out from under the desk to allow him to stand to his feet. He stretched out his handsome length and raised his hands upwards, rooting out the tension from his body. He had been sitting for far too long. He was quite sure that Goten had already been put in bed. Looking back at his wasted coffee, he slightly pouted and grasped around the mug's ear, walking to the door and opening it. As he wanted to start moving again, he was startled by Chi-Chi's frame, standing in the doorjamb. He quailed and opened his mouth in a comedic manner, especially due to the woman's pertinent, often demoralizing stares. It was unknown how, but she had a degree of power over him that had nothing to do with her being his mother. But it was mostly her very sudden words that had shocked him out of lethargy.

"_How's your work, Gohan?"_ she asked with a sceptic gaze. _"I do hope that you have studied hard today. After all you are still awake, while you were planning to go to the city early tomorrow."  
_"_Yes, I…"_ he replied, but was soon interrupted in his words.  
"_Can I see the fruit of your labor so far, sweetheart?"  
_"_Eheuh... heh… Well I…"_ he answered a little bit sudden, but then his face drooped a little, "…_I haven't managed that much today, mom,"_ he continued calmly.  
"_What? How come? You aren't ill, are you?"_ Chi-Chi's hand came forward to feel Gohan's forehead, immediately checking for a fever, scrutinizing every inch of him, even going so far as to take her son's wrist and feel his heart rate, which of course was healthy and steady.

"_Mom…Just…My mind kind of wandered, I guess, okay?"_ Gohan answered vaguely, and quickly interjected by putting up his finger in an 'oh, but' kind of fashion. It was merely to shut Chi-Chi up, though.  
"…_and this assignment is stupid. Really… I mean, if only…"  
_"_If only what? Do you think you can finish your study with if onlies, young man? University professors know what they're on about!"_

Gohan, getting a tiny bit frustrated, moved his hand towards an assignment stencil on his desk, showing it to his mother, his voice slightly starker this time around. _"Aliens, mom!"_

Chi-Chi didn't really know what to make of this. Maybe it was one of his ramblings, having been with his mind all over the place. She gave him a confused, rather goofy gaze, one of her mouth corners slightly twitching.

"_I went to study sociology, and the very first assignment I'm getting is writing an essay and giving a seminar about the widespread demographic effects of belief slash disbelief in extraterrestrial life forms. How the concept of aliens impacts on our society, and all that jazz. We can't pick out the topics. The topics are simply picked out for us and of all the people on this world I got stuck with this one!"  
_"_But, it's just an assignment sweetheart,"_ Chi-Chi answered mildly worried, _"Even if it's not all that fun, you still need to do it,"_ she said to him, her soft and motherly voice returning as she slightly frilled her tunic with one of her hands.  
"_Oh mom it's hardly that. It's…"_ Gohan replied with a sigh and looked straight in his mother's eyes.  
"_How can I spoon-feed my classmates this nonsense?"_ he said, quite strongly, but something in his voice was always gentle. _"I have to spend forty-five minutes speaking to a seminar hall, packed solid with students, about UFO sightings, ball lightning, photoshopped photographs with weird lights or objects in them! I can't do that! It'd be a lie! Piccolo's a Namek, Freezer was a changeling, dad is a Saiyan and I'm half extraterrestrial myself! And they expect me to talk to them straight-faced about the conundrum of aliens? No way!"_

When Gohan finished speaking, Chi-Chi gently put her hand upon his broad shoulder and would smile a bit. The touch of a loving mother made everything better, or so the saying goes.

"_Sorry, honey, I haven't thought about it like that. What date are you scheduled?"  
_Gohan raised his brow in wonder and thought for a moment, then double-checked his schedule, paging through the weeks to come. _"October 7."  
_"_So, then, you have all the time in the world, haven't you Gohan?"_ Chi-Chi would let out a rather blithe giggle at that point.  
"_A month and a half is a long time, honey. You just now go and have a nice drink and then go to bed, okay? You wanted to get up early tomorrow."_ She moved on her tip toes and leant against her strapping son, to plant a kiss on his cheek. _"You're my big man. You'll get it done. Just take it easy, okay?"_

Gohan found this soft rebuttal rather surprising, but he immediately caught himself, bringing up his hand as to scratch contemplatively behind his head, ruffling his neatly trimmed fingers through his spiked hair.

"_Yeah, I will. Oh, by the way, talking about taking things easy… Where's dad?" _he asked, slightly shrugging his strong shoulders as he moved to put his assignment stencil and his schedule book on the tidy stash next to his computer and leaving it there to lie for the day.  
"_Well, you know your father…He ate and ate, and now he sleeps and sleeps." _Chi-Chi smiled. One could almost hear the sound of fulfilled snoring from here, but then suddenly, her facial expression pivoted around a full 180 degrees in worry. _"But you haven't eaten. You must be hungry. You know I managed to save some for you. It's in the fridge, hun. Just put it in that micro-thing."  
_"_Hah, cool. Thanks mom. I'm really famished. I kind of forgot about eating."  
_"_Hhuhmm…" _Chi-Chi stifled a yawn by flexing her jaws and slightly moved her hand in front of her mouth. _"I'm going to bed, too. I'm tired. Please put out the lights when you're done downstairs."_ She smiled, and with that, she moved down the hallway and into the next room to the left. A deep snore was heard when she opened the door, and as it closed with a gentle thunk, the snoring was again muffled.

Son Gohan's footsteps carried down the slightly arched stairway and reached the modest living room, a beacon of family warmth in all its facets. The walls were of a warm creamy white that borderlines yellow and the floor and furniture was an also very warm, dark wood. A solid table was the center of the room, with two vases, a saltshaker and several magazines on it as four chairs were pulled up against its bulk. A couch was propped against the wall, in front of a wide window, where those who would sit upon it received a fresh spot of air during the day. There was no TV corner to be found here, as there was generally little need for a television. There was always the one that Gohan had in his room, which was then frequently watched by Goten. There was however a comfortable hearth, which was the source of the thick smoke that playfully curled out of the chimney when the winters came. An overabundance of potted plants really made the living room come alive, and the place was separated from the kitchen by a counter, behind which the tiled floor and the almost antique kitchen cupboards and the old cast iron furnace could almost be interpreted as a vivid blast from the past. All in all, this little house had always been cosy, and the love of the inhabitants for one another made it a true home. Gohan felt the sleep coming into his eyes as well and he brought up his hand to rub his right eye. He shuffled calmly to the refrigerator and opened the door. As Chi-Chi said, a large ceramic bowl with plenty of delicacies had been saved up for him. He licked his lips rather enthusiastically and smiled, hunching over into the coolness of the fridge to take the bowl out carefully. He turned around and put it down upon the counter and gently tapped the fridge door with the heel of his foot, causing it to close with a muffled thump. The fridge exhibited a generous number of tiny little dents from exactly this type of behaviour not only from Gohan, but probably from Goku and Goten as well. Gohan removed the cellophane from the bowl and brought his face close to the food. Sashimi… mmm… His nose wiggled as he took in the smell, before putting the entire bowl in a quite large, white _Sunbeam_ microwave oven, which unwittingly distorted the rather picturesque interior with its almost art deco design elements. Punching in the numbers and pressing start, he turned about in order to lean against the counter while the loud whirring of the apparatus started to warm up the food. Four minutes thirty, that should do it, he thought. It was at that exact time that a sudden sound against the front door caught his attention. He lowered one of his brows in a sense of wonder, but when he heard it again, he was pretty sure that someone was there. He calmly, but alertly walked towards the door and as he suddenly yanked it open to look who was there, surprise caught him.

"_Icarus!"_ he exclaimed happily, although he immediately reminded himself to keep his voice down as everyone has hit the hay. The venerable, flying little dinosaur gave a tired cawing sound as he rested against the side of the house. Gohan stepped outside fully and put the doormat over the doorstep, then went to crouch in front of the creature, bringing out his hand to gently pet Icarus on the head. A smile was pasted on his face now. He looked back inside up the stairs. Goten might have wanted to see Icarus too.

"_How are you, you old bird?"_ he would playfully ask, at which his hand received an obstinate nudge from Icarus's thick forehead, his large bulging eyes defiant as if saying that he was still young as a teenager. Being just as old as you feel also went for animals, that much was certain. Gohan pulled back his hand gently, but immediately brought it back to stroke behind the old dino's ears. It seemed that they were flicked upwards and opened to their full, a logical response to the odd hum coming from the microwave oven inside. Gohan looked back and forth between Icarus and the microwave and then laughed lightly. _"I guess my food will be done soon. Hey, don't worry; I'll get you some as well."_

With that, Gohan had moved back inside of the living room, walking rather energetically towards the refrigerator. He crouched even deeper than before in order to open up the large transparent grocery bin on the fridge's floor, where his hands found their way to a crop of lettuce. He sniffed it and tested if it was still fresh, and then stood back up again, closing the fridge with his free hand this time, moving back out to where Icarus was anxiously awaiting the promised food. He cawed quite happily when his big eyes were laid upon the lettuce in Gohan's hand, and he brought forth his head in a speedy movement in order to lock jaws with the vegetable. Hungrily, the dinosaur munched away at the lettuce, and after two bites, his sharp beak came so close to Gohan's fingers that he accidentally dropped it by reflex, He would laugh profusely, not unlike his father often did, coming to fondle the back of his head again. The sharp _ping_ from the microwave brought his eyes up again, though, and his mouth opened wide to unleash a rather profuse yawn.

"_Hhahhh…" _he grunted as he rubbed his chin, before giving Icarus one last look, and petting him on the head once more. _"It's time for me to eat, and after that I'll be sleeping. Got a long day tomorrow. Goten and I are going to Capsule Corp. Bulma has been fawning so much about this new 'ultra sharp' telescope…"_ Of course, it was hardly the telescope alone that made him anxious to go. He hadn't seen Bulma or Vegeta in several months. He especially missed the spunk of Trunks as well; with him, you never had a boring moment in your life. Goten was the icing on the cake, though. Put them boys together and things went ballistic, but Gohan didn't mind a bit of excitement right now. He gave his final greetings to Icarus and moved to close the door behind him. Time to eat until his stomach bulged and then time to go to dreamland. The momentary cool air relief from outside had made him forget how enormously tired he was, but it all came back to him at the end of his meal, as he stacked the bowl and the plates that he used upon the kitchen table. He really had no stomach for doing these dishes right now; he was sure Chi-Chi would understand. Gohan flicked out the light, ascended the staircase and took the door right ahead into his room, closing it behind him. The only things he did was kicking off his boots and setting the alarm clock for 8.15 in the morning. To him, that was a late time to get up. It was then, that he simply let himself lose balance and flopped down upon the soft bed face down, then angling his head ninety degrees to lay himself on his cheek. It took seconds for him to be fast asleep, his torso mildly moving at his serene breathing.

The morning sun shone already quite brightly through between the curtains of his room, causing the light to hit his face every once in a while as they were blown apart a little bit by the wind. It seemed like Son Gohan was already busy waking up; his eyes had stopped their R.E.M. movement and he started to wiggle around on top of his bed rather profusely, as if he was shaking a bad dream; in fact, it was only his body struggling fruitlessly against the encroaching sunlight. It was only moments later though, that the alarm clock that stood on his desk next to his reading light started its atrocious loud beeps. Only a handful of these beeps were needed to bring Gohan back to the waking world, rather suddenly even as he not as much woke up as sat up quite strongly. The gi that he was still wearing ruffled around his muscular figure, and he brought up his arm in order to wipe about his eyes, wiping the sleep away.

"_Hah." _A semi-laugh came onto his facial features as he rather excitedly propped up his legs and swung them down over the side of the bed, a maneuver that caused him to straighten out and land his feet with a slightly dull thump on the ground. Now standing, he brought about his hands and worked out all the tension in his body, stretching his muscles, unloading their pent up energy for a little while. A grin came onto him as he grasped his blue boots, with those characteristic orange stripes from center to the tip of the feet. He simply hopped up energetically and landed with his feet into his boots, putting the pantaloons of his gi inside of his boots; it was nice and warm. Then, he tied his shoes tightly and jiggled his legs about a little, standing with one of his feet on the ground, rather comically. He went to crouch with his legs wide and grasped hold of the tips of his boots, stretching by arching his back, grunting lightly and then suddenly marching out of his room, the slightly loud closing of the door meaning that he was well and truly gone.

The living room was, at this time, bustling with activity. Goku was sitting at the table still, buried in a bowl of rice, rapidly spooning large amounts of breakfast into his mouth complete with the accustomed sound of someone literally engorged in food. All one could see from his face was his wild, gravity defying hairdo with its characteristic shape. Goten was in a corner, playing with a couple of dinky toy cars, rolling them around and crashing them into one another, as always a slight goofy smile pasted on his face. Chi-Chi was, at this time, doing the dishes and sighing at the rate with which she was supplied with new plates. A few annoyed grunts escaped her, but she seemed to liven up a bit when she caught sight of Gohan.

_"Good morning, Gohan," _she smiled gently, and Goku, who was listening in, lowered the bowl that he was spooning empty and look upon his eldest son with rice and sauce over his face, his cheeks bulging with a large quantity of food still in his mouth.

"_Hew Gowan, vit down, ve wife if gweaf!" _he exclaimed, causing Gohan to rather comically raise one corner of his mouth and start laughing.  
"_Have a seat, dear. I'll fix you up with some breakfast as well,"_ Chi-Chi interjected.  
"_No, that's okay, mom. I'm going to train a bit, and then I'm on my way to the city. I'm going to have breakfast with Videl," _he smiled quite widely.  
"_You two have gotten pretty close over the last year, haven't you?" _Chi-Chi narrowed her eyes in a smirk, inciting a reddish blush over Gohan's cheeks.  
"_Yeah, haha, I eh… guess we have." _

With that, he would wave towards his mother and stampeded towards the door, but as soon as his hand was laid upon the handle, he heard his father's voice, now a lot clearer. Obviously, he finally managed to swallow.

"_Training, eh?"_ he said with a rather playful grin. _"Do you think you're up for a spar with your dad?"  
_"_Boy, am I ever!" _Gohan answered excitedly and gave him a hand gesture, coupled with a grin. _"Bring it on, dad."_

Like that it was, that father and son, both incensed with the fighting urge that laid deep in their Saiyan genes, excited from the house through the front door, and there, in the patch of grass in front, close to the walkway towards the dirt path that leaded to the closest by village, the sounds of their fighting resounded. A steady flurry of punches and blocks could be heard, both fighters being in pro forma. As Gohan's boots hit the ground, he sunk in a crouch and grinned, his hands clenched into fists as he brought forth his left shoulder by twisting his upper body. It was beside him that his hands met in order to channel a decent amount of energy in between, a slight speck of light at the center of his cupped hands quickly bulging outwards to gain the size of a football. He would jubilate as he made a full 360 spin and unleashed said energy upon the flying shape of his father. Goku widened his eyes and the jocular expression on his face as said ball of energy high-tailed it towards him was instantly turned into a look of concentration. He simply rotated in the air, arching his back and arching his head upwards as far as possible, causing the energy to ruffle past his chest and chin, missing him by a hair's breadth. _"Haha, good one, son!"_ he yelled, continuing his rotational movement in a backward somersault and landing with both feet square upon the ground. Crouching, he diverted the power in his legs into the ground, causing indentations within the soft grass and flinging up patches of soil as he powerfully lunged forward to his son, and with the air of disappearing entirely due to excessive speed, Gohan's eyes widened a tad, although his left closed in reflex as the next thing he felt was being caught on the cheek by his father's elbow. Gohan's skill was apparent though, as his left arm was already halfway up towards his face. He seemed to have anticipated and he acted out of reflex, but his countermeasure wasn't quite up to speed. Gohan's body bounced against the ground with his shoulder, then his back, before he regained control over himself and brought his knee down against the grass to stop his momentum, leaving a mild scrape in the grass where his knee had pressed and angling the foot at the end of his other leg against the ground to stem his movement. His hand came down as well, then, to support his frame.

"_Ouch, you got me there, dad. Damn."_ The grin on his face had disappeared, but as soon as he was done rubbing the sore, he smiled and stood back up to his feet.  
"_You got plans for today?" _he asked his dad as he put up both of his hands behind his head, the look on his face at least half-serious. That was enough contrast against his father's often whimsical expression.  
"_Well, not really, I suppose. I was planning on training a bit, have a rounder or two with Goten maybe. Get some wood for the hearth. Our stack of firewood has almost run out. Ha Ha I don't really have a schedule."_

At that moment, young Goten came jumping out of the doorway and closed the door behind him, walking up to the two. He was so much like his father that they were hard-pressed to find any discrepancies between the two of them, despite the opposite difference in size and build. Their hair was exactly the same; they had the same aptitude for smiling almost inanely and they possessed the same gentleness towards all living things, not to mention the fact that Goten wore exactly the same combination of clothing as his father.

"_Heeeey Gohan! I'm ready to go!" _little Goten yelled, his face enlivened by the wide, goofy laugh. Goku's response was one of surprise, adlibbing _'huh'_, but Gohan seemed to have anticipated this to the extent that he was downright counting on it.

"_Of course you are, little man. Let's get going." _Gohan was about to turn around and push himself into the air after having petted his young brother on the head, a mild aura of energy seemed to rush about him as he prepared to fly, but looked back towards his dad as he spoke.

"_Where are the two of you going?"_ Goku asked.  
"_Capsule Corp. I haven't seen Trunks, Vegeta or Bulma in a month or two. I was kind of looking forward to. And Goten here seems to be anxious to test himself against Trunks again." _Gohan grinned, Goten nodded with a laugh and Goku rubbed below his chin with a firm smile.  
"_Come to think of it, I might make a trip to Kame House today," _Goku answered, _"Krillin must be wondering whether I'm still alive by now. Ha ha ha. And I have a gift for Master Roshi too." _He gave a playful wink.  
"_Yeah, one can only guess what that might be,"_ Gohan raised his brow with a slight grin and took a hold of Goten's right arm, smiling as he took to the air and looked back over his shoulder. _"See ya, dad!"_

"_Bye daddy!" _Goten jubilated, as both of them flew off in a mild wake of a whitish energy, their forms accelerating through the air until they disappeared behind the tree canopies. Goku smiled rather satisfied as he watched them leave. Thinking about his two boys seemed to always warm his big heart. His peace of mind was suddenly, abruptly shattered at the yells of his wife.

"_Gokuuuuu! You were supposed to put up the laundry!"  
_"_Eheuh!" _Goku suddenly lost his composure, one of his feet slipping away from under him as if stumbling over an invisible obstacle. _"I was going to, Chi-Chi, I promise." _He said with an apologetic look, his hands drawn out in front of him as to keep her at bay. Needless to say, it would not work when faced with Chi-Chi's overpowering persona.

"_But I was planning on going to Master Roshi and Krillin, you see."_ He was caught completely off guard when a large jar filled with clothespins was being flung his way. He yelled out in surprise and turned about to catch it, several of the clothespins spilling out and falling into the still slightly moist grass. Chi-Chi smiled almost seductively as she held up one last clothespin between her right thumb and middle finger. She flicked her thumb, causing the object to make a nice arc through the air and land right in the open jar. _"Get to it, hero."_

Goku sighed and nodded. "_Yes, Chi-Chi."_ With that, he walked back indoors and moved through the house, coming out the back door where the clotheslines were suspended. He put down the jar and grabbed the two bloating baskets with fresh clothes in order to commence his duty. He sighed, but couldn't help but bite off a smile. None of the enemies that he ever faced managed to make him feel this powerless.

The large punching bag in the center of Hercule Manor's gym was jouncing around rather profusely as the kicks and punches of the short haired girl smacked into the leather surface. One could hear the seams cricking and popping now and then, a few grains of powder trying to find its way out from its hold at every time. Videl, the daughter of the famed Mr. Satan, was anxiously hitting away; one had to stay in shape. Plus, even though it had been so for quite some time, her thoughts about Gohan got stronger and more ubiquitous by the day. They were really growing close to one another. She could barely believe that Gohan came into her class looking like a scrawny nerd, and now he was a regular, muscular Adonis. It must have been the ordeal with Buu that changed him; there was more of him to look at. She would giggle rather playfully as she moved closer to the bag and simply grabbed hold of it, hanging onto it with half of her weight as she was thinking. She wanted to do something romantic with him soon. The cinema was the first thing she thought about, but she easily dismissed it. Videl wasn't one for the cinema. What was romantic about sitting in a dark hall and looking at a movie being played in front of you? It does not matter with whom you go, you're reduced to a witness of an event. No matter how introspective or how resonating of one's own life the movie can be, it gives one a feeling of detached observation and before you realize it, you've come to focus wholeheartedly upon the picture and have forgotten everything about the person with which you went. She sighed. She wanted to do something that would make them feel truly together. Maybe a dinner would be nice; the restaurant doesn't have to be expensive, it just has to have an enjoyable atmosphere. Nah, she thought. Not special enough.

She grunted and moved her hand to her hips. She was wearing a pair of black shorts that reached to about halfway down her thighs. Her upper body was dressed in a long sleeve T-shirt that was probably one or two sizes too large, her slender, but muscular and streamlined form had all the space to move around in. She found this comfortable. As she left the Satan dojo, which was conveniently built into the side of the Manor, she moved through a door which brought her back in the hallway of their home itself. She wondered if her dad might have a good idea of where she could take Gohan, but he was still extremely obstinate about the whole deal. He wanted someone stronger than him to court to his daughter. Videl knew better at this point. There's no such thing as realism behind the camera. Hollywood is not something bona fide. The Cell Games had not been a bad WWF recap. Her father was not the man that he portrayed to be. And yet they loved him with their hearts and souls. Fraudulent as the cantankerous fool may be, he did earn the right to be called a hero. _He could come off his high horse for once, though, and give Gohan the green, _she thought at the moment that she passed a painting with him holding above himself that vaunted championship belt that he seemed to carry around everywhere. Hmf.

Her eyes widened slightly as she got an idea. She turned around forthwith and moved towards the dojo wing again. This wing was open to visitors and had a rather large reception. She entered this reception through a hallway coming from the back, her slightly squeaky Converse All-stars thumping and peeping at every step against the smooth ceramic tiles that made up the floor. There were several tables here which were littered with magazines of any kind, from children's comics to fashion to soft porno. The chairs and couches behind these tables were fluffy and gave every impression of being extremely comfortable. Hercule knew how to please people as well. After all, happy people were loyal people.

She looked up against the wall. Again, you wouldn't go 10 yards in this house without coming across at least one image of Mr. Satan in some ostentatious pose or other. There were several people waiting on the couch across from the room; one of Mr. Satan's 'star pupils' would come in a moment to receive the two and put them in a martial arts group. The woman behind the reception was busy answering phone calls almost at all times. The sound of water churning and bubbling in the large jug atop of a _Glacier_ Water Cooler in one of the corners of the reception pierced the silence, as one of the waiting moved back to his seat with a cup of cool water. Videl's eyes were on a plastic tray that was hanging from the wall by a couple of screws, in which were displayed several small event ad flyers and catalogues. She paged through them. There had to be something between here. A nice dance floor. A concerto. Maybe even an opera. Pretty much to her dismay, a lot of the events that were listed were rather erotic in nature. _Ladies night at the Red Rose, Male Stripper Extravaganza. Erotic Lifestyle Grant. _And so on, and so on. She smiled slightly, though, as she saw one of the last event papers. _Woodcrock; Golden Earring on Stage, October 12 thru. 15. 200 yards off Moraine Street; Tickets on sale wherever tickets are sold: Telephone: 0448-267 172 32 (free of charge) or e-mail coord.GEoSSatanCityFestibal.scd for further information. _

That would be so cool, she thought, her exhilaration getting the better of her. She stuck that little flyer within her pocket and simply dropped the rest on the ground without thinking, one or two people following her movement; as the daughter of the champ, being recognized was highly likely. She ran back the way she came, her footsteps resounding through the empty halls as she made her way for her dad. She was starting to loathe this place; it was so big, it had no soul. Having no idea in which of the fifty something rooms Hercule would be, she rolled her eyes and brought her hands on either sides of her mouth as to carry her voice further. She inhaled to call out, but before she had the chance to, the watch on her left wrist made a beeping noise. She blinked and stopped in her movement, bringing forth her both legs to screech to a halt with a very loud squeak from her sneakers. She looked at the watch; apparently the guys from Satan City PD had stumbled upon a hurdle that they couldn't straddle once again.

"_This is Videl,"_ she spoke into the watch, her face was now in serious expression, the soft light from the liquid crystal display illuminating her smooth face.  
"_There's serious activity in Gossamer precinct. There have been massive sightings of violence on the street. Vandalizing, gunfire, the streets have been emptied out. All evidence points to a fight between two of the major gangs. Members of the Ironskulls have been sighted. More reports will be filed when more of the accomplices are recognized."_

Videl's eyes slightly widened at this news. The Ironskulls were quite dangerous, but her surprise would turn into determination.

"_I'll be on my way."  
_"_Should I notify Saiyaman, Ms. Videl?" _That question made her think for a moment, before a slightly cocky smile came to her lips.  
"_No, that won't be necessary. I can handle this on my own… I have some frustration to work out."  
_"_Very well, Ms. Videl. Coordinates are sent now."_

She pushed a button on the watch, and as the data transmission was received, a GPS mini-map of the city popped up on the LCD, with on it a flickering circle. She narrowed her eyes.

"Hmh. You may be the martial arts champion of the world, dad, but you're not the boss of me. I'm taking Gohan to concert and that's final." She grinned to herself and with a bit of concentration, she let herself hover out of the window and tapped another button upon her watch; a gift from Bulma, from when they first teamed up to make the city a safer place. A slight electric current seemed to flow through her body from top to toe, and with technology comparable to the Capsule Corp hoi poi capsules, a different set of clothes appeared in a puff of smoke, supplanting her old ones. The underlaying mesh seemed to approximate the blue jumpsuits that were incorporated within the Saiyan armor that Bulma manufactured at Capsule corp. She was now wearing white boots with yellow padded toes as well as white gloves, but from there the similarities ended, as over it she wore a light-blue tunic that was held to her waist by a white utility belt, and from the shoulders of her clothing an orange cape sprouted. As a finish, her head was adorned by a white helmet with a dark blue visor, Gureeto Saiyaman Ni-chigo to the rescue.

The day might still have been young, it being Saturday 9.30 AM, but the criminals of Satan City were no slackers this time. It was at a crossing with a restaurant on one corner; the patrons had been forced on the ground as a bullet hails have perforated every square foot of the building. The windows had exploded in a shower of shards, half of it laying inside and half out; the forensic textbook example of bullet to glass. The crossroad was bordering a large industrial area, the opposite corner was cut off from personal infringement by a wire fence, where an old factory ground had been excavated with the purpose of putting in the foundations of the buildings that were planned to be built there. Basically, it was a large gaping hole, where construction ramps with metal stairways were covering the edges. Reinforced concrete already covered the bottom, mean-looking, reddish steel rods pointed right up from the concrete mass in a grid formation; anyone that would fall there had a high probability of impaling themselves on at least one of those. Fortunately, the site was unmanned, the only sound that came from the place was one of the gangs taking up refuge there, and discharging their weapons anxiously at their attackers. The police was already on the scene, numerous of law enforcement vehicles having taken position at every street leading from the crossroad. Both gangs had the quite unsettling task of fighting off both the police and their enemies all at once. The policemen cowered however; the torrent of fire was almost random at times, and though some officers returned fire, others simply remained hidden behind their cars.

"_God damn Ironskulls! Die!"_ one of the cornered thugs screamed at the top of his lungs as he aligned his Ingram towards the enemy, most of whom seemed to be ducked behind vehicles. The entire street was a mess. Bullet holes were everywhere, entire building edifices were blown out by clumsily crafted, but powerful pipe explosives. A barbershop owner was screaming within the audio pitch range of a soprano as a rain of machine gun fire went right over his head, causing his hand to powerfully flinch and take out a pretty big gap of the customer's hair with the electric shaver he was fine tuning with.

"_Oh it is 'orrible! Vat have I done? I've ruined your hair! Diabolik! Diabo.. Auugh!"_ An exploding vehicle caused the outer wall of his barbershop to cave in, causing a cluster effect of brick pieces that came inward. His eyes were wide and his face was covered in bruises. _"Zees ies too much for me…I should have stayed at Chanel…Oh Coco, forgive me."_ with that, he rested his head on the rubble.

Outside, the sound of gunfire was overwhelming enough to make any war veteran have a flashback. The nameless crooks returned fire, mostly with those Ingrams that fired short, inaccurate bursts – some of them used large, heavy silencers to keep their aim from veering and increase accuracy. The Ironskulls were mostly bald men with a tattoo of a skull on their forehead, although many had a lot more over the rest of their body. Almost none of them wore upper body clothing, and they had a large variety of different weapons. As the fire was returned, most of the Ironskulls ducked behind vehicles or the edge of a building. Some took shelter within the buildings themselves; a duo stumbled back away from the widespread rain of bullets and dove through the shattered windows right on a dinner table of the restaurant and on the two plates of half finished food that were still resting atop of it. A very long, rather skinny figure rolled off of the table immediately and landed upon the ground, the sound of shards crunching against the ground. His partner was a rather fat black man with long dreadlocks and kind of resembled a black Andy Fordham. His fat arm was grabbed by the large wiry hand of his partner, who pulled at him quite powerfully. A grunt escaped him as his heavy body shoved over the table; one of the legs gave out and he suddenly lurched forward, landing his flab upon the other's skinny form, quite fortunately as bullets whizzed past where the fat man had just been. _"Git offa me, you idiot!"_ A wild growl left the cavity of the skinny thug's mouth as he raised himself to lean upon the broken table top, grasping at the window sill and cutting himself on a piece of glass.

"_Ouch, god damnit!" _

He raised himself in a kneeling position and brought up his MP5. He fired non-specifically at the building site where the opposing gang had fled to. One volley, two volleys. Three, until his rifle produced an audible click and he suddenly moved to crouch down, grinning as he grasped a magazine from his utility belt and clicked it in place.

"_Huh? What the…"_ He looked upon his fat partner, who was engorging himself in what was left of the food. _"This be right chawin, ah be baaad…"_ His fat cheeks wobbled as he spoke in his highly slurred Jive, snorting between bites, until he let out a yell of surprise as he was smacked over his bald head.  
_"Will you get up off your flabby ass and SHOOT AT SOMETHING?"_

These kinds of things were going on practically anywhere where the Ironskulls took refuge from their enemy's fire, alternating their retaliatory fire between the coppers and the opposing gang members, until with a loud, crashing thud, a huge foot came down upon the ground. And another. The policemen widened their eyes as they stumbled over one another. Now also the more hardened seemed to take refuge behind their own vehicles. "_Oh yeah."_ The skinny thug grinned as he looked at the rather enormous figure. The feet belonged to a ten feet grunt with limbs as thick as Dorian columns. He was the only one that didn't cower from the shots; all he did was put his free arm in front of his face, and just waited. His form ate plenty of bullets, but none of them permeated him deep. He was just eating them up, grunting deeply and laughing. Painful as it must be, he enjoyed it.

"_Get them, Bulldog!"_ several of the thugs yelled from their cover.

His enormous cargo pants had dozens of holes in it, and not all of them were bloodied, which showed that this huge, muscle bound figure has done this before. Like his size, another thing that wasn't rivaled by anyone currently shooting their guns was his plain ugliness. Veins throbbed on top of his massive muscles, a build that seemed to be sustained by enormous amounts of steroids as it had clearly surpassed the humanly possible. The source of his name was the massive bulldog tattooed on his bared chest; a piece of art that reached from his belly button up all the way to his pectorals. His large nose had its bridge pierced by three steel pins from side to side, his nasal wall pierced by a large ring. The only effects of clothing that he wore beside his cargos and boots were two braces, one on each arm, but the most eye-catching was the weapon that he held within his huge right hand.

His arm raised, the enormous muscles of his biceps and lower arm stretching and contorting like steel cables as he pointed forward a giant minigun, which was linked to a rather large backpack he wore; that thing carried the massive belt that fed the weapon by a delivery system that was built along his right arm. As he raised the minigun towards the construction site, the rivaling gang members scattered like wildfire, some taking refuge behind the digger, the concrete mill, and a number of thugs tried their luck down the ramps within the foundation pit. A diabolic laughter came from Bulldog as he clenched his massive hand around the weapon, the six barrels starting to turn around with a whir. The minigun discharged its heavy fire with enormous speed, dozens of bullets plowing into the scene every second. The wire fence was breached like spaghetti and the bullet impacts created a quickly evolving trail of smoke puffs. Gargled yells could be heard as the unnamed gang cowered at this display of force, a war over turf degenerated in a struggle for survival. Two of the thugs who had been hiding behind a bulldozer were perforated by the endless minigun fire, as the reinforced bullets plowed straight through its metal scoop.

_"That big dude is unbelievable! He's bringing the entire place down!"_ an officer shouted over the sound of the fire, and had apparently gotten Bulldog's attention. With a sickening grunt, he coiled his massive shoulder and stepped to turn. He swung his minigun arm all over the place without releasing the trigger, almost undiscriminating of the other Ironskulls, as if the entire fight had been brought back to survival of the fittest. It was like a wave of destruction carried forth wherever he pointed, the storm of bullets punctured the restaurant again from end to end, causing splinters of bricks and concrete to fly about. Pieces of doorframe and shattered sidewalk tiles danced around in its wake, the large barricade of police cars was jolted and fragmented by the bullet hail in a rain of windscreens, pieces of chassis, wheel hubs and spark plugs. All that the policemen could do was lie down on the ground and hope that they were spared.

It didn't take long for the enormous Bulldog to lose himself in the thrill of his carnage, his laughs echoing around the entire city block. Even the other Ironskulls had fled in every direction and some had even surrendered to the police freely.

"_Little maggots crawling in shit!"_ Bulldog said with his deep voice that sounded a bit like two heavy rocks grinding together. _"Worthless little husks of meat! Stop cowering behind your walls and vehicles and be pulverized like the trash that you are!" _

He had barely finished that last sentence, or from his open mouth, a grunt of pain could be heard, two white boots clashing quite heavily with the back of his huge bald head. The force imparted upon Bulldog's ugly head was enough to cause Videl's figure to ricochet off, and she skillfully vaulted backwards in a flip, landing on the asphalt with a grin on her face, her stance widened and one of her arms brought out with the fingers of her hand in a claw formation. She was ready to fight.

"_Fine by me, murderous lowlife! I'll kick your ass all the way back to Sunday!"_ she yelled and streamed forward, towards Bulldog's left leg, coming at him with quite a bit of forward momentum and jumping up to ram her leg right into the pit of his knee. The still standing behemoth had received a massive blow to the head, and before he knew it, this second attack was aimed to have him lose balance completely. His left leg gave away and he fell down towards his side, natural reflex turning about his massive torso and causing him to ram into the asphalt back-first. The sheer weight of the guy caused the asphalt to crack and a grunt of pain coupled with his excessive saliva was emitted from his mouth, his pungent breath colliding with the air.

Videl had of course sidestepped this falling monster, and stood about 5 yards away, admiring her own handiwork and putting her hands to her hips in a self-satisfied stance. The grin on her face was quite apparent, and as the first head popped out from behind the heavily ambushed police blockade, a sudden jubilation reached her ears. Yes, Ms. Videl had saved the city again from degenerates and criminality. She brought her hands up together in front of her, stretching her fingers with a few soft pops and taking a few poses, looking away from the lying giant and up towards the sky. It was almost uncharacteristic of Videl to act so much like her father. Maybe it was a bit of healthy mocking. It however kept her from realizing that the giant behind her stirred, and its massive back lifted itself from the ground.

"_Miss Videl, look out!"_ one of the policemen yelled. The minigun came forward with surprising velocity as it was not used as a ranged weapon, but as a blunt object. As Videl turned around, she widened her eyes and doubled over from the hit to her chest. Eyes bulged almost out of her sockets and her mouth opened wide, letting out a gush of saliva. She flew through the air in a tumbling arc and looked behind her, to the ground below, one of her eyes half-shut. She turned her body around with all her might to keep herself from landing headfirst. She smacked into the tarmac with her shoulder and bounced once, hitting the ground with her hip for the second time and grinding to a halt, leaving a rather ugly scathe on her side. She had her teeth gritted. _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_ She couldn't stand herself right now, and her entire body quivered as it tried to find the might to stand up to her feet. She pressed up with her hands and managed to turn her head around to look over her shoulder, her eyes widened in a mixture of fear and rage. The minigun's six barrels were pointed right at her. She had no where to go. If the 10 feet baboon would depress the trigger, she was mincemeat. A tear welled up in her eye as she was completely paralyzed as the fear of imminent death locked her in her movement. The policemen that were watching were looking on, the blood disappearing from their faces.

"_That was a strong attack, you little brat!"_ Bulldog yelled enraged. _"Now die!"_

Videl's eyes refused to close as she knelt there, looking at him over her shoulder. She could only speak out one last word, her hands tightening against the asphalt. _"Gohan!"_


	2. Bulma's Discovery

CHAPTER 2: BULMA'S DISCOVERY

The morning sun did not discriminate; it made the entire of Satan City bask in its beautiful, warming glory, the last bit of morning dew being vaporized by the rising temperature. The massive white dome of the Capsule Corp. headquarters shone almost blindingly within the low hanging sun, a gentle breeze ruffling the low cut grass on its lawn. The place was almost stark in how it strived to look perfect; not a single stain upon the smooth building edifice, not a single blade of grass out of line, no renegade plants. Several gardeners seemed to be at work in the beautiful morning, tending to the flowerbeds and trimming the hedge. The entrance to the property itself was an automated gate with a security booth next to it, which was occupied by a corpulent security guard paging through a magazine with an air of indifference. The gate was open as it was morning; Capsule Corp was open to visitors, granted they had an appointment. A dampened sound of tumult seemed to emanate from the equally huge backyard, on which an odd, spherical construction was erected; the black and white edifice of the Capsule Corp gravity chamber, muffled yells from a raspy voice were alternated with the sound of impacts; a mild glow seemed to issue from behind the windows that shifted from a whitish to a golden color as a quite extortionate yell could be heard. A yell, or maybe the power that was released when this yell occurred, shook the premises ever so mildly; Vegeta's outbursts could be so powerful indeed that they overcame the dampening qualities of the gravity chamber. It was constructed on top of a massive shock absorber exactly to counteract things like these, but with the prince of all Saiyans, precautions were often insufficient.

Panting mildly, Vegeta had sunken into a slightly low stance; the gravity reading had reached to the enormous heights to 650 G. One could almost swear that the gravity was literally pulling him down, an electric sensation that coursed throughout his supercharged body. He was normally quite able to handle this momentous pressure in his current state, as a Super Saiyan, but he had bruises all over his form, his muscles had swelled quite opulently, and he seemed to be at his last breath after a long and consuming training session. His breaths were deep and strong, struggling to carry as much oxygen into his body, to keep feeding his amplified metabolism. Saiyans had an extreme endurance, but eventually even they succumb to the brunt of lactate buildup. His body seemed to burn; he had worn himself out, but the intractable Vegeta wouldn't have it. His one track mind made his eyes tunnel forward, his fatigue blackening his peripheral vision. He had lost all focus, but still he kept moving, issuing weighted punches and kicks in the thin air around him. A thin veneer of sweat had accumulated over his body, making it shine with an almost diabolic glare underneath the red ceiling lights.

Vegeta's training outfit was quite simple, really. It was pretty much a pair of trousers and an undershirt of the same jumpsuit material that Bulma used to manufacture her heavy duty Saiyan armors. Though his body was unimpeded with armor at this point in time, the boots and the straps around his wrists had every impression of being weighted. Even a relatively light 25 kilograms per boot and 10 kilograms per wrist teamed up to add a staggering forty-five tons to his weight, within this environment; enough to lock him in his movement were he to return to his normal Saiyan state. His breaths became more powerful, and his frown deepened, his brows furrowing mildly and then causing the bridge of his nose to wrinkle with some mild rage.

"_Damnit. Is this all? Is this everything Vegeta has to give?"_ he growled to himself, highly dissatisfied, as he watched his reflection in the shiny metal wall. His teeth gritted together and he railed back his right hand, before bringing it to the front with his last strength and ramming it into the wall, creating quite an indentation. With a grunt, he pulled back his hand, with some effort, from the warped cavity, and he popped his neck with the audible sound of his vertebra shifting mildly. A slight electric charge sprang forth from his ablaze, golden Super Saiyan hair, and he walked towards a blast hatch in the central pillar of the room. The gravity chamber was pretty rounded from outside, but the inside layout had a large column in the middle of the chamber; At extreme gravity, the structural integrity of the chamber's outer hull alone was not enough to sustain the structure. Thus, the training room was torus-shaped. The blast hatch in the column was there as a precaution; to prevent Vegeta's intense power to accidentally damage the controls. He brought forth his hand and opened a plastic flap over a bulging red button, which he then proceeded to push. The hatch opened up with a mild mechanical whir and revealed the operation console. An annoyed grunt left him as he set the gravity back to a 'more bearable' 35 G, his rest-gravity. As that happened, he finally allowed his power to slip away, the golden aura that enveloped him breaking down and his spiked-up hair losing its golden color to become its usual raven black. He hunched over and brought his hands to grab his knees, stretching his muscles and opening his mouth wider, panting as he looked at the ground. Those anti gravity tiles that wanted to suck him up. Sometimes, he could almost envision Kakarot's face being right there. It was maddening at times, even though their experiences, their hardships together had revealed much to him. He gritted his teeth in defiance to them; even though in this gravity, he had little trouble to remain afoot. It was simply his obstinacy that wouldn't let him let off.

Vegeta's eyes suddenly turned about to gaze upon the intercom console, a ruffled peep could be heard emanating from it. He was called. Gritting his teeth, he released a slight throat noise as he walked up to the console and pushed a button.

"_Vegeta, are you in there?"_ he heard a woman's voice speak. He looked away with some indifference within his expression, but returned his orbs upon the device.  
"_I'm here. What do you want, woman?"  
_"_Could you come to the tower? We might need your help."  
_"_Yeah, sure. Whatever," _Vegeta grunted as he moved towards a locker mounted into the outer wall. He undid his shoes and his straps, putting them in there and retrieving from it his usual footwear. A simple tap upon a panel near the exit made the ramp open up and come down upon the soft grass, allowing Vegeta exit. Several seconds after he stepped off the ramp, it lifted itself up again in order to seal the gravity chamber hermetically.

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It was in the meanwhile that Son Gohan and his young brother Son Goten had reached Satan City's airspace, the cityscape zooming by underneath rather quickly. From all the way up here, they were both oblivious to some of the ugly intricacies that could only be seen from ground level. Satan City was almost sterile when you looked at her from a bird's eye view. The roads, though packed solid with traffic, seemed to be woven together with superb efficacy; the trees that separated the two opposing lanes of some of its avenues were places in a perfect line. The buildings seemed to be flawless, varying from high rise office boxes to the spherical and oval design elements that were inextricably bound to this city. The building that they were moving towards, though, almost resembled the Buckingham Palace in a way; it had virtually the same exterior layout and honestly it wasn't that much smaller either; Hercule's manor, where Gohan would reunite himself with Videl so that they could have a nice spot of breakfast. The wind fought against his form as he cleaved through the air. Having pushed the button on his wristwatch long before he reached the city, he himself was now adorned by his Saiyaman uniform; it consisted of a black jumpsuit with a green tunic on top that gave him plenty of maneuverability. The came that was attached to his tunic was red, and despite the helmet that he wore in the very early days of his crime fighting career had been replaced, for quite a long time since, by a white bandana and sunglasses. His smile, at this point, was almost blinding, his white teeth glittering in the low hanging sun that they were moving towards.

"_Gohan! Do you think that I could fight Mr. Satan's students? That would be so much fun!"  
_"_Eheh, I don't know, little man. You might want to go easy on them. After all, they're still training. Ehem..." _Gohan mumbled as he looked ahead of him. Goten would make mincemeat out of them, but he doesn't seem to know yet. His little brother was oblivious to the status quo. He'd go all out.  
"_He could seriously hurt someone..." _Gohan mumbled to himself. Goten, flying around in pretty patterns to pass the time while they were traveling, came to hang upside down in front of his older brother as he gave one of his upbeat smiles.  
"_What did you say?"  
_"_Eh… Nothing." _Gohan flinched and would bring his hands in front of him. _"Let's just get Videl and have a snack. And then we can go to Capsule Corp and you can have a rounder with Trunks, okay!"  
_"_Yaaay!" _That was sure to redirect the youth's enthusiasm. So much so, that he suddenly accelerated, his little orange gi flopping madly around his body as he sped ahead of Gohan.  
"_Hey, wait!" _he yelled, but suddenly turned around, stopping mid air, the lower flaps of his green tunic coming to rest over his hips and upper thighs again, his eyes mildly flickering behind his sunglasses. Raising his brow, he looked upon an odd cloud of grayish smoke coming from the west part of the city.  
"_Huh, what's that?" _He heard an odd, faraway popping sound from that location; it was next to the industrial grounds. Was it fire? No, it almost sounded like...

Gunfire.

"_Goten, wait up here!" _he yelled at the top of his lungs as he diverted his course. He raised his ki output and as soon as he did this, his body was exposed to a powerful acceleration. Narrowing his eyes behind his shades, he quickly flew, lowering himself to between the buildings, their edifices zooming by very quickly and the wake of his energy causing the air behind him to wobble, as if heated by a jet engine. He flew through between the buildings of a long avenue, then changed course quite mildly and forced himself through between some of Satan City's high-rise. He raised himself and barely topped a sky scraper under construction, passing through between the top floor and the tower crane on top, causing several of the workers to almost lose balance, madly flapping their arms around in their attempts to regain it. Gohan looked behind him with a slightly widened gaze. _"Sorry guys! My mistake!"_

With that, he homed in upon the odd smoke, his muscles bulging with the excitement of hero work as he ended up right above the sound of gunfire after several minutes of flight. It was surprising how much it lessened after only this short of a time. He looked around at the heavy, almost exaggerated barricades made up from numerous police cars. He then gazed down in the construction pit, where several of the frightened gang members were holed up. And then he heard his name. His eyes widened as he now recognized the figure of Videl on her hands and knees. His face lost all color as he noticed the huge minigun in the behemoth's arm. No time to spare. With all his might, he twisted around his torso, railing his left arm behind him and yanking himself back in an almost cartoonesque starting pose, then throwing himself forward, right at the ground. The buildings and streets were, in the speed of his approach, reduced to lines and blurs, his every attention diverted to that patch of asphalt right between Videl and the Ironskull's minigun.

It was like he fell upon the ground between them as an anvil; a dead weight. With a sound like steel hitting stone, it was like he suddenly appeared, the speed and strength of his landing causing his feet to sink almost a foot deep within the ground, his face bent in a fearful rage as the tremor from the heavy thump reproduced itself through the rocky ground. He was standing upright in a symmetric pose. It was only a fraction of a second after he interjected himself between the two that the minigun spewed its bullets. Gohan did not dodge. He was the shield that would save Videl's life. The sound of the bullets impacting were not so much detached impacts, but a steady stream, and dozens of bullets hit Gohan's body. Though Gohan recoiled quite liberally from these high speed, high power impacts, he managed to keep his footing, the shoulder where he was hit last jolting back, causing his upper body to mildly twist.

"_Owowow! That hurts! Those things pack quite a wallop, you know!" _he said with a look of abundant irritation in his eyes as his hands flicked around quite comically in front of him, rubbing his chest and his temple. He blinked slightly, no longer feeling his shades, and his Bandana had been shot to bits as well. Videl was trembling all over, still white to the bone, but finally gave out and one of the hands with which she held herself up, causing her turn over and land upon the asphalt with her back.  
"_Goh... eh, Saiyaman... You came..." _she smiled, at which Gohan looked back.  
"_Yeah. Don't worry, Videl, let me take care of this creep."_ The smile returned to his face, but his hand was still rubbing beside his left eye. It was slightly black.

During all this time, Bulldog couldn't do anything but look at this display of superhuman force. His huge, dirty stinking mouth was open wide, his spoiled teeth glistening in the morning light. One would almost say that his jaw was stretched beyond the limits of the humanly possible and was resting somewhere knee-height, his eyes bulging well and truly out of their sockets. His massive undercarriage had taken on an exaggeratedly bowlegged stance, his huge knees trembling.

"_Eh, I..."_ the massive thug mumbled as he looked upon the spiky haired figure that looked at him so sharply; no doubt enraged about what almost had come to pass.  
"_Shooting a woman in the back while she's down. You truly have no sense of honor. I'll make you pay for this!" _Gohan crouched and railed both his hands back, ready to pounce and make mincemeat out of him. He however would snap out of his anger and looked at the thug with a surprised glare as the huge minigun clattered heavily to the ground; he was now brandishing a little white flag.  
"_I give up..." _Bulldog spoke softly, his eyes were still like dishes, although then of a crusty, ugly yellow. Gohan, having keeled over from hearing this rather unforeseen bombshell, once more got to his feet and wiped off the dust from his tunic. It was still in one piece, thanks to Bulma's superior craftsmanship, but he did have a small handful of tiny bruises, as he hadn't had any time to focus his strength.  
"_Okay, eh... Guys, you can take him in now," _Gohan spoke belatedly towards one of the police officers, but his gaze turned starkly towards Bulldog again. _"You had better be complacent from now on, because if I see you do this type of thing again I'll be right there to take care of you!" _his voice sounded through the crossing rather triumphantly - Bulldog nodded in his still perplexed state - and with that he turned around to help Videl on her feet. Some of the people that lived in the neighborhood stuck their heads out of their doors to see whether things had died down again. Half a dozen policemen advanced towards the mentally broken Bulldog and had no trouble whatsoever putting the biggest irons in their possession around his thick, ponderous wrists. A law enforcement van arrived on the scene and Gohan and Videl watched how the massive Ironskull grunt was, after several minutes of pushing and squeezing, successfully detained within the vehicle. Then, the SCPD was slowly removing their presence from the scene.

"_Aaaaahhh!" _Two perfectly synchronized yells could be heard coming from low in the air, followed by two remaining Ironskulls to smack down into the pavement. The skinny thug and the fat thug, to be exact, still drenched within the pasta dressing that they landed in earlier on. Goten, hovering in the air and wiping his hands together quite smugly would laugh.  
"_Got two more of them here!"  
_Gohan's laugh resounded softly through the crossing and he stuck out his thumb into the air towards his little brother, before turning to look upon Videl again. She was now standing again, and had recuperated from the blow. That overwhelming scare had gone as well. _"Phoah," _she mumbled, _"I've bitten off more than I can chew." _She looked down to the ground, slightly ashamed, and was invited in by Gohan's arms.

"_Hey, I'm just glad that you're okay," _he softly spoke and then raised his brow. _"You are okay, aren't you? Did they ambush you while you were walking in the street?"  
_Videl shook her head and looked up at him. _"I should have warned you. I thought I could do this one by myself."_ A look of understanding dawned on Gohan's face. He wasn't angry, though.  
"_Hey, you couldn't have known. Why don't we go and have breakfast somewhere?" _he smiled.  
"_That sounds pretty good. I think I could eat as much as your father right now,"_ Videl admitted and would gently hook her arm around his. The duo was however surprised as Goten landed upon Gohan's shoulders, almost causing him to tumble over.  
"_Yay, burger, burger!" _he exuberantly yelled. Both Gohan and Videl raised their brows and looked at one another from the corner of their eyes, grinning mildly.  
"_Burgers it is. Let's go!" _With that, the trio took to the air and disappeared from the crime scene, where peace had now returned. S.W.A.T. officers had surrounded the area in order to round up remaining thugs, who had been demoralized to the point of powerlessness. By the end of the afternoon, it was merely a little scare upon the hearts of the residents. By tomorrow, it'd be nothing more than a headline in the newspaper. By the end of the week, the bullet holes left behind by the gunfire would have become yet another testament of mankind's boundless apathy and no one would grant them a look of scrutiny.

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The tower, 9.44 AM. The tower was in fact a construction atop of Capsule Corp's dome, whose shape was in fact a dome as well. It was a dome atop of a much larger dome, which earned it a rather suggestive nickname from Bulma's father, Mr. Briefs; the Nipple. It was in fact an astronomy tower, and closer inspection revealed a rotary mechanism that can revolve the entire dome a full 360 degrees on top of a massive spindle ring. A huge, wide truss was in the ceiling, pretty much like a massive letterbox; the opening that the telescope required to observe the skies, although now it had been closed by a sliding door mechanism. The inside of the tower was illuminated merely by a row of tube lighting that was imbedded within the sloping wall about six yards above the ground. The telescope, of course the center of this chamber, was suspended by a system of beams and jacks, in order to allow it movement so that it can properly observe the sky in every direction. It was a very advanced piece of technology, doubly so by human standards. The center of the astronomy tower was separated by a thick banister, as in the middle of the chamber rested an enormous mirror; it was perfectly convex and the imperfections in its shape were less than a micrometer small; it was this precision instrument that with a similar rig of jacks and hydraulics could be moved in accordance with the telescope, which is the main cause for its enormous resolution. The telescope was so incredibly sharp that it could tell how many fingers an astronaut on the moon was sticking up.

As the construction of the telescope made it impossible for a person to look into it directly, the images perceived by the telescope were transmitted to a data center; half a dozen of computers linked to a secure server which could analyze the procured data. Bulma and her father were sitting at a computer each, their eyes inextricably bound to the screen. The operating system on Bulma's computer showed a window that browsed through a set of captured images, while sifting through and comparing strings of numbers that were incessantly renewed.

"_Are you sure, Bulma?"  
_"_Pretty much, dad. Look here." _She made wild gestures with her arm.

Mr. Briefs got up from his chair with a soft, venerable grunt, the black cat that always seemed to sit on his shoulder mewing rather happily, like it had no care in the world. With his hands within his pockets and a cigarette bumbling around from corner to corner in his mouth, he moved behind his daughter and looked over her shoulder, one of the fleshy wrinkles underneath his left eye frilling mildly. What he saw upon the monitor was quite spectacular. It was a beautifully sharp picture of a rusty colored sphere that almost looked as if it had acne. In the corner of the picture there was the barely visible edge of a large beige sphere, which any astronomer would recognize as Jupiter, and several other spheres were smaller in the distance.

"_Oooooohhh..."_ Mr. Briefs exclaimed almost mockingly as he watched the sphere in focus.  
"_That's a really big eruption, right there," _he said, making Bulma almost fall off her chair. Indeed, there was a good sized, bluish blotch visible at the edge of the sphere.  
"_I'm not talking about Io. I'm talking about this here thing." _She took the pencil that she was chewing on twixt her thumb and middle finger and tapped against the computer's tube monitor on a small whitish speck in front of Io, a rust-colored, highly volcanic moon in Jupiter's orbit. Mr. Briefs was not surprised that he looked over that little thing; it was hardly bigger on screen than the tip of the pencil that was pointing it out..  
"_Can you magnify?" _he asked.  
"_Sure, let's see." _She moved her hand towards the mouse as she pressed the Ctrl and M keys, bringing up a transparent box over the picture. She hovered it with the mouse over the white dot and clicked, magnifying the contents of the box over the entire window. Everything was still as sharp as a knife, but the white speck was now the size of a marble. She clicked again; ping pong ball, and again. Now, the picture started to show slight distortion as the resolution was insufficient. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at it. Mr. Briefs slightly widened his eyes and canted his head to the side as he tweaked his moustache in a rather interested fashion.

"_This is 4000 magnification. What do you think, dad?" _she asked.  
"_When did you find this?"  
_"_Last night. It made me stay up all night."  
_"_Mm... It doesn't look like ordinary space matter to me." _His croaky voice pierced the silence, which was thickened by excitement.  
"_It looks artificial to me; look at the shape," _he spoke, his analytic mind hard at work. _"In the case that it's mineral, it's too light to be an ordinary meteor. I've seen comets like this; those can have abundant magnesium and gallium deposits, which can cause very bright colored sediments to form. But then, a comet has a tail..." _he slightly laughed and scratched the back of his head.  
"_Did you record more of this? If we know the way it moves we might be able to tell more."  
_"_Way ahead of you." _Bulma mildly grinned as she gathered the recorded images and played them with one second intervals. One could clearly see the movements of Io itself, and of course the path that the odd, light colored dot made in comparison with Io. It was a gradual movement of seemingly constant velocity. Bulma raised her brow and moved her hands in her lap, slightly playing with the fabric of her red dress. Her father simply leant his hand upon the table and watched intently.  
"_It looks to me like it's in geosynchronous orbit. Its speed is constant with Io's axel, like the communication satellites in Earth's orbit. For a space rock that's pretty much impossible, let alone highly unlikely. It has to be a ship."  
_"_Yeah, but look how big it is. At least I think it's big."  
_"_Cross-referencing the size of the object with the radius of Io given their relative distance is such that geostationary orbit occurs, I'd say it'd between 30 and 35 kilometers from end to end," _Mr. Briefs calmly opted.  
"_Well, you always did have a good eye for spatial comparison... I'll see if I can increase image detail by running it through a couple of sharpening filters," _Bulma sighed and yawned slightly, her sleepless night had left her quite tired as she went into the program console and started to profusely rattle her fingers over the keyboard. Mr. Briefs was becoming more and more absorbed with this extraterrestrial object, playing the cigarette around from his left to his right corner. He hunched closer to his daughter.  
"_Have you thought about running a mass spectrometry analysis, Bulma?" _he asked as he grasped a ribbed plastic cup, with which he walked towards an espresso machine that was standing upon a small table against the wall. It churned and bubbled very mildly as he put the cup underneath and pressed the latte button.  
"_Who do you hold me for?"_ she asked, as if insulted, then pointed towards a printer that had been steadfastly pooping out a string of paper that had already amounted to an inch thick stack. The printer was whirring with an almost angry sound at each additional piece of A4-paper that rolled out, as if it had been fatigued by its task. As the cup filled, Mr. Briefs took it out from under the machine and let out an appreciative grunt, feeling the warmth of the liquid against his bony fingers whilst grabbing two cubes of sugar and dropping them in it. The black cat on his shoulder meowed very gently as Mr. Briefs' shoulder mildly raised; he moved up his hand towards his ear to take hold of a pen that had been lodged there. Stirring his coffee with the butt end of the pen, he walked towards the printer as it continued its diligent labor. He took the latest A4-paper as it left the printer with a calm speed, examining the readings with the corner of his left eye as he stood angled slightly away, while bringing up his coffee for a long sip.

"_Hmm...Hmmmmmm... Let's see..." _he mumbled to himself as his scientist's eye scoured the string of numbers.  
"_This is odd," _he added, as he continued looking, but now he put down his coffee on top of the printer's plastic enclosure, pitting both eyes onto the paper, _"This reading looks a little bit like Vanadium, but... it has an inexplicable peak at 650 megahertz. And this set of readings... I don't recognize these at all. Are you sure that these readings are accurate?"_ Mr. Briefs asked to Bulma, who was still sitting at her computer, running a broad spectrum of sharpening filters at the station 5 meters away.  
"_Pretty sure. A computer doesn't make the same mistake twice. And I checked three times."  
_"_Hmm... Very strange indeed," _he muttered and brought his hands down, taking within his hand a random part of the stack and inspecting the figures there, before slackening his thumb to allow paper after paper to gently fall back down on the stack.  
"_Well, there are clearly discernible readings now and then; this is tungsten. This is selenium... Ehh... This looks like pyrite or some other metallic oxide. That is odd. And here start a string of readings that I can't make sense out of."  
_"_What are you saying, dad?" _Bulma asked as she had been listening in with one ear.  
"_Nothing much, except that the only explanation I can think of is that this object is mostly constructed of materials that contain elements that are not in our periodic table."  
_"_... like you'd expect from Aliens?" _Bulma grunted a bit sarcastically.  
"_Well, looks that way. I sincerely doubt that NASA has the combined wits and knowledge to put something that big all the way there."_ Mr. Briefs shrugged his shoulders, causing another annoyed meow from the black cat as it was forced to fight for balance.  
"_If we can't, they certainly can't," _Bulma answered with a bit of spite, but quite suddenly looked behind her as the double doors bearing entrance to the Tower were loudly forced open, slamming against the wall and slowly coming back to fall shut. The shape of Vegeta, his body still embroidered by the training jumpsuit, was standing in the doorjamb, looking around with his narrow frown as he always did.

"_What do you want, woman?" _he grunted; his mood was seemingly worse than usual.  
"_Hey, cool it, Vegeta. Save your arrogant sneers for the bedroom. I just wanted you to have a look at this." _Vegeta kind of swallowed as a barely visible shade of red came to his cheeks, after which he simply sighed with the sound of yet another grunt, walking up towards his wife. The enlarged image of the 'ship' was gradually sharpening each time the filter traveled over it, like a horizontal line moving slowly from top to bottom, leaving the entire image a tiny bit sharper every time.  
"_Have a look at what," _Vegeta gritted his teeth, persisting in his obstinacy. Bulma simply pointed to the computer screen, slightly riding the office chair a bit to the side to give him a better view. Vegeta slightly hunched over and put his hands on the desk, narrowing her eyes at the whitish shape on the screen. The first ten seconds, he did not seem to move, his eyes as if frozen on the image. When he stood up again, it came over as very sudden, almost causing Bulma to flinch and fall off her chair.

"_Eh...?" _she muttered, though the sound of question was apparent.  
"_Looks like a space ship." _Vegeta's voice sounded almost exaggeratedly bored.  
"_Seems to be. Do you recognize it?"_ Bulma asked, but Vegeta had already turned about and walked back towards the door, his defiant steps underlining his Saiyan pride. There was however an odd sneer pasted upon his face; one which Mr. Briefs caught from his position at the printer, but didn't really react upon; sometimes he simply didn't get those two, let alone how they could possibly have come to wed. As Vegeta's hand came forth to open the door, he turned to look back and grinned towards Bulma.  
"_Get some sleep, Bulma. You look tired." _With that, he exited, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving a completely bewildered Bulma. _Get some sleep?_ That was a side of Vegeta she hadn't really seen before.  
"_He's right, Bulma. You might as well go have some shuteye now," _Mr. Briefs opted as he stacked the paper again and leant back against the table on which the printer stood, sipping his coffee. _"Don't worry, your work here has peeked my interest. I'll keep an eye on things here."  
_"_Thanks, dad. I'll be back at 3 PM. Try to put your ash in the ashtray this time," _she yawned and skidded back her chair, standing up and straightening out her dress. Mr. Briefs watched her leave and grinned slightly, arching his back in a rather comedic stretching pose. The cone of ash that had amounted on his mildly smoldering cigarette dislodged and fell down into the neck of his blouse.

"_Hmm? Ah! Ou! Ouch! Hot! Hot!"_ he stampeded around slightly, his arms flopping about in an exaggerated manner as he rubbed his chest not unlike a gorilla, causing him to have forgotten about the coffee he was still holding, splashing part of the hot liquid over his face and shoulders. Two seconds of silence ensued, before he started to blurt out again.

"_Ahhh! HOT! HOT!"_

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Having exited the tower, Vegeta's grin had boiled down again to his usual dead stare, his brows starkly lowered as he looked around him through the hallway. Capsule Corp interior was quite surprisingly homely at times; Mr. and Mrs. Briefs have done their best in order to indorse a domestic sense within the otherwise cold and sterile white walls of the place. Many potted plants and little bits of furniture were standing within the hallways and the white walls themselves were ornamented with quite a myriad of artworks, ranging from paintings to professional photography. Now and then one would walk past a pedestal on top of which the bust of a famous scientist was standing. Walking through the curving corridor towards the door that would lead him back into the yard and reacquaint him with the fresh morning air, Vegeta passed the torso of Niels Bohr; a highly famous chemist that was one of the first in history to compose a comprehensive and realistic model of the atom. Looking at it for a short while, he wondered what the Briefses' fixation was with clotting their hallways with the statues of old people. After all, these old guys were hardly warriors; they looked puny and useless in a fight, not to mention that even the most intelligent of beings did not necessarily have the wit to survive in a crisis situation. A stark grunt left the cavity of his mouth as the door closed behind him. Closing his eyes as the soft, cool wind hit his cheek, he sunk in thought.

"_That ship...," _he muttered to himself, his mouth curling in an even uglier frown as he put his hands within the pockets of his jumpsuit pants, his long, gravity defying hair being played with by the air.

_I know it from somewhere, _he thought and his teeth gritted at his inability to place it. It was clear as day that he felt nothing for sharing his ignorance on the matter with his frantic wife. He was in no mood for discussion right now, but seeing it seemed bring back memories of his father. Did it have something to do with him? It must have been something his father told him about. Something that was very important to the race of Saiyans. But for the love of anything dear to him he could not remember. His face contorted in a mild rage as he tightly clenched his fists. Sometimes he wished that he hadn't been so indifferent, that he had listened more attentively to his father. Always thinking to know things better than those around him was his greatest pride-induced weakness.

As he made his way towards the gravity chamber, which was simply one of Capsule Corp's space ships installed onto the ground, he thought about how much a waste of his time it had been to go all the way up to the Tower because that stupid woman had seen something with her stupid new toy. Commendable though it might be, it at least allowed him to recover his strength. He was ready for a second round; just himself, his sweat and his blood, and the 650 G's to keep him company. His eyes marginally widened though, as he noticed, from behind the tinted windows of the gravity chamber, the emanation of another's ki. It was golden, like his own Super Saiyan energy, so it could only be one other person. He narrowed his eyes and slightly growled, walking up to the gravity chamber and tapping the console mounted in the hull. One key commando and the ramp folded outwards, hitting the ground with a thud, allowing Vegeta entry. He could easily hear the excited yells of his young son Trunks and as he stepped within the chamber and first felt the gravity sheer, the ramp closing back behind him. He instantly let out a grunt, made his muscles taut and transformed back into his Super Saiyan state, a sudden swirl of golden energy enveloping him and then stabilizing around him like a thin golden fire.

"_Well well well. My pint sized Super Saiyan hard at work..." _he sneered. Trunks' emerald eyes would flicker brightly as he looked around to grin at his father, looking him up and down.  
"_Goten's coming here today, so I want to be warmed up when he arrives. He won't know what's coming to him!"  
_"_That's the spirit, son,"_ Vegeta grunted, not completely displeased. He looked upon the G-readout. It was fixed on 320 times Earth-norm.  
"_Would you mind clearing out of here once he arrives, so we can have a tussle in the grav chamber?"  
_Vegeta's eyes widened at his son's insolence, his teeth gritting for a moment, a vein throbbing on his temple. It was only shortly that effort was expended to fuel his anger. His expression changed into one of delighted sneering.  
"_It's a deal, but only if you manage to land a punch to my face." _With that, Vegeta sunk in a battle stance, staring his son down with a grin. Trunks' glare became slightly unsettled at his father's answer, the corner of his mouth rising frantically. It only lasted for a short moment, as the determined young Saiyan quite immediately lunged himself forth towards his father to enter a seemingly endless exchange of punches, kicks and parries, the canned voices of son and father carrying far throughout the backyard.

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"_...and then that huge guy pulled this really big gun at me, but luckily Gohan came to the rescue within the nick of time!"_ Videl spoke rather elatedly, happily sucking a bit at the straw, tasting the sweet punch drink that the robo-waiter had just now brought in.  
"_Ooo, you poor dear. Everything is alright, I hope?" _Mrs. Briefs opted with a worried look in her face; tall, and remarkably pretty for her age, that large tuft of blond curls atop of her head almost just as gravity defying as your average Saiyan's hairdo. She was wearing a rather stunning black dress that revealed her healthy figure quite nicely, so far as to make one wonder what Mr. Briefs's obsession with 'babes' was good for. Her eyes, which almost always seemed closed or almost closed would curl in a happy smile, her octopus lips slightly opening as to let in the straw of her own drink.  
"_Eh... Yeah, sure. I'm alright, but Gohan's got a black eye. How ironic that his shades were destroyed," _Videl giggled a little bit as she sat against Gohan, who had trouble finding himself within this group of people. Something about him seemed to lock up when he was around multiple women, more so when they were talking about him.  
"_Oh, well, it will pass." _He rubbed his sore eye socket. Yeah, those minigun rounds really packed a wallop.  
"_We went to have breakfast at a local Bagel & Juice. There's nothing like some food to squelch a little hurt," _Videl spoke and then looked up from her drink towards a door that was flung open all of a sudden.

The room they were in was modern in every way, pretty much like the rest of Capsule Corp. It was in the south wing, and not too far away from the main entrance. It was the living room of the Briefs family; the ground was a sterile black plastic, the saloon table was a rectangular glass plate with chipped corners, held up by a chromed crux-shaped standard coming from a pedestal of heavy black marble, several art deco chairs and a modern looking black couch surrounding it. A rather gargantuan _Samsung _TFT High Definition Television was hanging from the wall, underneath which a low, open closet was standing with its glass doors open, revealing a stereo, a HD-DVD player and a Game Console, about a dozen boxes spread throughout the place as to approximate the sensation of a true Home Theater system. The television was at this point displaying a high resolution fish-tank screensaver, which was used to endorse the living room's atmosphere. The walls were white, although on several places hung with potted hang plants, as well as an array of equally modern art pieces; an authentic Mondriaan piece was suspended from the wall right next to the door, for instance. The wall that separated the living room from the kitchen was thick, and contained a large terrarium that contained a manner of small amphibian and reptilian creatures. The kitchen behind was just as modern, with a large black dinner table and all manner of domestic apparatuses to make the life of the rich all that more easy.

Goten gave his best clueless face as he looked around through this splendid living room, before setting his sights on Mrs. Briefs' form rather happily.  
"_Do you know where I can find Trunks, Mrs. Briefs? He's not in his bedroom."  
_"_He isn't inside," _spoke a raspy voice from behind, causing every head in the room to rear itself towards the source of this voice. It carried all the hallmarks of irritation. Vegeta's form starkly marched into the living room, slightly rubbing his cheek and looking around with marginal surprise. Gohan and that idiot world champion's bratty daughter were here too, he thought. They were all looking at him all doe eyed, too. This annoyed him further.

"_Hey Vegeta!" _Gohan said with a smile, _"What happened to you?"  
_"_Nothing!" _he blurted out and starkly turned towards Goten, his dark eyes almost electrified with irritation.  
"_O...kay..." _Gohan murmured and looked around a little bit; anywhere but where Vegeta was, really.  
"_He's in the gravity chamber. Now shoo,"_ Vegeta grunted and made an aggressive arm gesture towards Goten, who could only smile that much wider... and more jocularly than ever.  
"_Thanks Mr. Vegeta." _The boy quickly ran out of the door and his soft footsteps quickly disappeared. Vegeta's eyes narrowed slightly and then settled on Gohan, who immediately recoiled a little bit.

"_Euhh?"  
_"_Where's Kakarot?"  
_"_Where's Bulma?" _Gohan asked at the very same moment as Vegeta spoke, but then reclined a bit more.  
"_Dad said he was planning to go to Kame House,"_ Gohan answered politely, _"...but it's all too possible that mom's got him chained to the kitchen table by now."  
_"_Didn't know Goku's wife was that kinky..." _Mr. Briefs said, having just now entered through the door, looking throughout the room. Gohan and Videl both railed forth and spat out the punch they still had in their mouths and Mrs. Briefs mainly looked around, a tad clueless at what was transpiring. Mr. Briefs simply walked on past the terrarium into the kitchen to get himself another pot of coffee, humming the tune to Sex Court and acting as if nothing happened, or maybe being just as oblivious as his wife. Vegeta conjured a bit of color on his face, then simply left the room as well, growling mainly to himself.

"_Ehh..." _Gohan recovered and scratched the back of his head, _"Where's Bulma?"  
_Clueless Mrs. Briefs was halfway about raising her shoulders in a shrug, but her husband popped back out from the kitchen, now brandishing a large white thermos with steaming coffee inside.  
"_She's having a nap till three in the afternoon," _he answered, _"She found a spaceship in Jupiter's orbit last night. She was fascinated and stayed up all night to chart its course and take pictures and all that jazz. Hmm... Darned capuccino machine in the Tower is all out of beans again"  
_"_Wow, really?" _Gohan said, perplexed.  
"_Yeah. Now I have to do with run of the mill stuff you buy ready in the Supermarkets."  
_"_I was talking about the spaceship thing..." _a slight bead of sweat seemed to comically drop at the side of Gohan's temple, _"Can we see it?" _he added.  
"_Sure, kiddo. Why don't you come with me? All very interesting stuff! That cute little fiancée of yours can come too. Heh heh." _Gohan slightly flinched as Videl stood up and angled her head towards the grey haired, moustache wielding scientist when he left the room.  
_"He's like that sometimes. But he's kind; think of him like Roshi."  
_"_Great minds think alike, huh?" _She mumbled and gave a slight grunt, then followed. Who wasn't curious about a real spaceship, after all?

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"_Awesome!" _Videl yelled as she laid eyes upon the picture for the first time. Since Bulma left to take a nap, the sharpening filters have worked non stop, until they reached a state of entropy where the image could no longer be enhanced. It was sharp as day now and the shape of the vessel could be readily determined. 1.00 PM. Even Mr. Briefs had stumbled upon newfound interest, as now was proven without a shadow of a doubt that it was in fact a spaceship; you could see the individual plating. The overall shape seemed to be like a massive ring; sort of a short, stumpy cylinder, with four huge engine outtakes at the back and a spire on the front. There were several antennae at the very top of the spire, and it was unmistakably scuttled.

"_Look at all that damage..." _Gohan muttered bewilderedly as he looked over Videl's shoulder. It was true. Huge gaps were in the superstructure, that showed the mangled insides. It was as if a huge disaster occurred, although visual imaging alone could not determine the type of event that lay at its base. Neither could mass spectrometry, since most of the discovered elements that were used in its construction did not appear on the periodic table of elements, therefore their properties weren't known and neither were their reactions to specific events.  
"_Could it have been hit by an asteroid?" _Videl opted with a questioning look towards Mr. Briefs, who narrowed his eyes and searched around in his lab coat for a lighter. When he found it and lit the new cigarette in his mouth, he coughed shortly and inhaled a puff of nicotine, causing some of the grayish smoke to linger around his face.  
"_Doesn't look like it," _he said, _"The patterns of destruction along the outer hull doesn't correspond with the impact of a large mass. Here..." _He pointed towards one of the largest gaps within the superstructure. It almost had the shape of an elongated scrape, or a gargantuan clawmark.

"_The edges of this particular breach seem to have slightly curl outwards, you see? It almost looks like this destruction was triggered from within this ship."  
_"_Maybe it was a fight," _Gohan said calmly, gently resting his hand upon Videl's shoulder. Both looked back at him with a bit of a raised brow.  
"_A fight?"  
_"_Yeah. I see no reason why someone with power like my father's or Vegeta's couldn't have done it."  
_"_Hmm..." _Mr. Briefs mumbled and looked around for a moment. _"I have yet to think about the implications of the vessel's presence in our solar system. A race of extraterrestrials with the power to build such a spacecraft harboring ill will against the inhabitants of this world could do serious harm. Maybe Bulma and I should do a full radiological examination of the object when the sun sets. Get an emission spectrum on the darned thing."_

Gohan suddenly got a feeling welling up inside of him. It was an odd sense of ambivalence about the matter. He had fully forgotten his moral dilemma about his assignment concerning 'aliens'.

"_Should this be made public?" _he asked, with half hope.  
"_I think we should spare mankind this knowledge, lest we could induce mass panic amongst our denizens," _Mr. Briefs answered and took another drag from his cigarette.  
"_But we cannot know for sure what NASA or the RKA__ would do. I suspect that both these agencies will have detected this thing within the next seven days at the most; probably they've done so already. We found this thing by chance, but they have hundreds of the brightest young minds on this planet in their employ and they are monitoring the sky 24 hours per day, 7 days per week. It's just too bad that when they relay their information to the heads of their respective states, other people take over. These other people are cursed with a profound lack of both intelligence and tact, and are prone to make self-destructive decisions," _Mr. Briefs took a breath and laughed slightly, tapping the cone of ash into a metallic ashtray on the desk. The desk itself was plentiful with small scorch marks from when in his haste or exhilaration he missed the target.

"_If I'm right, there'll be government officials drooling on our doorstep once they've 'rated the threat'," _he finished, with quite a sense of elitism in his voice at this point. Who could blame him? Capsule Corp, as one of the largest, most technological and wealthiest companies on the face of the planet, will no doubt be asked to spearhead a mission into outer space. He didn't really feel too much for that, despite the urge he was feeling to be able to go there and touch that ship with his own hands. Part of him wanted to go and start designing a spaceship in order to get a sizable crew there, but another part of him was sickened by the idea of courting to those idiots. He sighed and slumped himself down within a seat, booting up the computer in front of him and cricking his neck side to side a little bit, before taking the thermos and pouring hot, black coffee within a polystyrene cup. Gohan and Videl got up not too much later, greeting Mr. Briefs and making themselves scarce, probably gone to check up how Goten and Trunks were doing. Peace returned to the Tower and Mr. Briefs himself - bless him, he wasn't the youngest anymore - dozed off and plentifully snored as the keys of the keyboard on which he had passed out slowly imprinted themselves upon his cheek. Under the soft flicker of the blue Monitor, displaying 'Password Incorrect', he entered dreamland. The black cat that always perched upon his shoulder had followed his example and curled up delightedly, purring in its sleep.

(RKA: Russian Space Agency)


	3. The Conference

CHAPTER 3: THE CONFERENCE

The rest of the Saturday had transpired mainly without incident; Bulma had woken up from her little beauty sleep in order to find her father slouched over his computer. Dr. Briefs, after having been painfully slapped back into the waking world, had helped his daughter in making sense of as well as cataloguing data procured from the process of mass spectrometry. As a further measure, they completed the first emission specs, which, at first seemed unintriguing. Not a single funnel of exhaust and not a single notable energy peak. With the help of advanced spatial arithmetic calculations and a little bit of guesswork, they've found within reasonable margin of error the length and mass of the spacecraft, and father and daughter have worked together to render a very accurate three dimensional representation of the vessel, including mapping the damage the craft had sustained within different levels of severity. It is after a long and tiring day, then, that Mr. Briefs had retired to his actual bed, where he found himself again plagued by dreams of a psychedelic nature, involving all manners of pink creatures that in some or other way seemed to refer to the spaceship he had been busy analyzing. In his mind's eye, he would walk the scuttled pathways, and come to many new discoveries; discoveries to his wildest dreams. More different methods with which he could further sodomize the base universal laws of physics. A further insight in the workings and properties of non-baryonic matter? Perhaps, he'd come to find out that the theory of relativity only applied to bunnies, and that dark matter simply made a good herbal tea. It was therefore quite clear that his superbly adroit mind had mastered most of the substance related to it or at least everything regarding the unidentified ship that the Tower's telescope and sensors managed to capture, despite the odd method his subconscious mind had devised to interpret said data. Bulma, invigorated by her midday nap, had had her daily schedule in ruins and worked again, deep into the night, in order to prepare the Tower's diagnostic system for another night of hard labor and violent number-crunching; the radiological analysis of the unidentified vessel had been initiated.

It was deep in the night; the Briefses' bedroom. Everything was silent, except for the gentle snore that occasionally frilled Mr. Briefs' moustache, the very gentle ticking of the analog clock that hung from the wall and the pastel whispering of the curtains as they stirred in the mild breeze that serendipitously carried through the slightly agape window. A digital alarm clock timing in at 4.52 AM stood on a small end table at Mr. Briefs' side of the four poster bed, which when compared to most of their property was surprisingly archaic and would gently creak whenever either sleeper stirred or shifted position. A velvety, dark blue blanket covered both up to the shoulders. It was an image of utter complacence, and absolutely un-foreboding of the extreme mental activity that was hidden behind the Doctor's lids, his rapidly drifting eyes. Very occasional murmurings would permeate the silent space, but nothing stood to happen from these minor interruptions, until a sudden sound unremittingly punctured the solemn silence within the bedroom. The disobliging triple tone of the telephone rudely shocked the both of them out of their sleep. First, they only mildly stirred, Mr. Briefs clenching shut his eyes and pressing down upon the pillow, as if to protect himself from the sharp sound. It was of course to no avail, and his wiry arm slowly rose against the end table, knocking over the alarm clock, which clattered against the carpet on the ground to get to the phone; it was one of those wireless phones that were resting on top of a receiver standard. Although he did this in relative calmth, Dr. Briefs was well known for his unwieldy mood in the morning. As sweet a man as he was, it simply merely manifested as a total lack of enthusiasm, until the bosom of science jumbled him out of his half-dead stupor. He clumsily tried to grasp the telephone while groaning almost theatrically, letting the phone slip from his hand and flop down on the smooth little end table next to his side of the bed. With another groan, his fingers curled and he stretched his arm a tad further in order to secure his hand around the phone, pulling it to his ear and pressing a green button.

"_Hello...?" _he grunted, still half-asleep. He opened his mouth, as to sample his own breath, which was truly miasmic.

"_Am I speaking with Dr. Briefs?" _an unknown voice inquired on the other side of the line.

"_No. You are speaking __**to**__ him, while he is anxiously trying to wake up because what you're about to tell him is apparently more important than his sleep. What is it you want, son?" _he said with slow, slurred speech, while rubbing his eyes and moving his free hand to slightly throw off the blanket, revealing the soft, black pajamas that he wore foot to neck. He curled up in it a little bit and turned around to rest on his back, coughing mildly. He might have been shocked out of his slumber, but despite all this he indifferently angled his free hand for a package of Marlboros and his lighter. The end table at his side of the bed was, not surprisingly, a garbled mess again with a large amount of nonspecific scorch marks. Mr. Briefs was not a morning person. As he felt his wife's hand curling up against his chest, he moved to stroke along the soft skin of her lower arm.

"_Eh, yes..." _the young voice on the other side of the line spoke a bit perplexedly, but recovered itself, _"I am to tell you that at exactly 5.40 AM, a car will be pulling up on the Capsule Corp driveway. This car means to take you to the Satan City airport, where you will be flown to Arlington, Virginia, to attend a conference of National importance. After the conference, you will be returned home free of charge."_

"_Oh, really?" _Mr. Briefs grumbled mildly, _"And to what do I owe this momentous pleasure, son?"_

"_Your expertise is in heavy demand, Dr. Briefs. That is all that I am authorized to divulge at this point in time."_

"_So, you are asking me to get in a car in the dead of night without knowing what this is all about?"_

"_You can be assured of the fact that whatever we will have to say is of global importance."_

"_Global? I thought you said national... Well, that makes all the difference, doesn't it?" _Mr. Briefs, now fully conscious again and very sure about what this all meant, seemed to smirk mildly, lighting the cigarette that now bumbled loosely between his lips and contemplating what kind of extremely green agency Desk-Johnny he was talking to. The absolute, formal manner in which the man conversed spoke of a collar that has routinely felt the squeeze of a tie. Careful intonation and perfect focus on what was said as regards to what had to be withheld would suggest a background in psychology. By all accounts, and in all probability, the Doctor was probably talking to one of those kids that came fresh from MIT.

"_Sir?" _the man on the other side spoke.

"_What if I choose not to attend?"_ Briefs hypothesized.

"_Whether you attend or not is of course fully up to you, doctor. I can only tell you that you will be heavily compensated for your time and that your attendance will be highly appreciated."_

"_Money isn't of such uttermost importance to those who have it in cornucopia, but if you were to promise me a really hot babe, then..."_ he received a playful slap against his chest from Mrs. Briefs. The line on the other side went silent for a good while, before the voice continued again.

"_My job was only to notify you of the opportunity, Dr. Briefs, not to persuade you into coming. I bid you a good day. And do not forget; 5.40 AM, in front of Capsule Corp's main entrance. If you choose to come, do not be late, as the car will not wait for you."_ With that, the telephone produced an audible click, and the call had ended.

Mr. Briefs lightly sighed and would look upon the telephone in his hand, pressing the now red button in order to stop the call at his end as well. Having done so, he put the phone back on its standard and stretched out both arms, his thin limbs trembling as he yawned. Ideas were sifting through his mind, but he had no need to wonder what this would be all about. He acted dumb towards the youth on the other end of the line; he had been planning to go from the moment he was awoken by the sound of the telephone. So it came as no surprise that he had already mentally prepared himself for a call like this, probably while sleeping. It was a scary power that he had, readying himself as if a divine voice was guiding his resting hours. The reason why he feigned ignorance was because he wanted to know as much as he could; what they were planning to do, how they were planning to do it and of course how he fitted in their schemes. He rarely trusted governments; the American government least of all. But the most prominent thought that dawned upon him...

"_Darn. Sometimes I hate being right."_

* * *

5.24 AM; The first glimmers of light had already come from the horizon and the sky wasn't completely dark anymore. There was a very mild, dark blue coloration emanating from the horizon. The first claxon sounds could be heard and the street lights were still on and would remain so for at least one and a half more hours. Bulma was standing in a rather large bathroom, the spotless white wall mounted tiles reflecting the light from the ceiling lamp almost painfully bright, the black ceramic tiles on the floor so clean and smooth, that one could see one's reflection in it. Her greenish hair was oddly ravaged, probably from a long night of work and now and then frustrated hands spearing through it, the red dress that formerly conveyed a sense of elegance seemed to have frilled and crumpled mildly; in all honesty, it was not the perfect clothing to work in, even if your work consists of sitting on your butt all day. The dress, in all its divine elegance, did not befit a woman such as Bulma, because she was blessed – or cursed – with a rather well-developed set of breasts that countered the effluence of such a garment. Her ankles were very mildly swollen as she had neglected to put on normal shoes; her feet slightly trembled in the moderately high heels with a color matching her dress. She was looking within the mirror, looking at the red rinds that enveloped her tired eyes and the wrinkles that had formed at their outer corners. She looked like a zombie of sorts; it was mainly her exhaustion that had made the stronger lines underneath her eyes more apparent. Fatigue truly made you look 10 years older. As she was wildly chaffing water up with both hands and splattering it over her face, she noticed from the corner of her eyes a figure moving by the open door. She raised her brow and moved to the door to look. It was quite usual for Vegeta to be up and about long before everybody else, which annoyingly left the ripe woman with no one to cuddle up with. Expecting him, she sighed when she remembered that other activities before sleeping lacked romantic punch, but regardlessly left her to 'feel the love' whenever she woke up afterwards. In all her speculation she was wrong, however, and she widened her eyes, not expecting to see her father up this early.

"_Dad?"_

Mr. Briefs looked around to inspect her daughter with eyes that were surprisingly awake; he was dressed now in quite domestic attire. He had chosen to put on a pair of patched, blue jean shorts, a brown checkered short-sleeved shirt and a cream colored tie which he had very clumsily put into what he thought was a Windsor knot. To top it all off, he had donned a pair of old sneakers.

"_What's with the getup, dad? And what in the world are you doing being up and about this early? Is the bed on fire?" _she asked bewilderedly.

"_I've been invited to a Joint Chiefs of Staff Conference. No doubt about that interesting spacecraft that you discovered. They're coming to get me in..."_

"_WHAT? IN THAT?"_ she yelled out, loud enough to make Mr. Briefs recoil heavily, and fall back on his hindquarters in utter surprise. Bulma's eyes were bulging almost out of her sockets as her orbs shifted up and down his form. Her hand trembled as her arm was stretched out in front of her, pointing at his chest.

"_You look like your pockets are lined with cannabis! Come here..."_ she grunted as she grabbed hold of his shoulder, powerfully dragging him along, causing a squeaky grinding sound from the heels of his shoes. Bulma stampeded on towards the Capsule Corp wardrobe, which was quite a collection of formal and no doubt officious attire.

"_They're not going to take you seriously if you show up in that. Get rid of it all. Everything! Down to your skiddies, dad!" _Mr. Briefs blinked rather mildly as he looked upon his daughter.

"_But I'm your father, sweetheart. There are boundaries that even I..."_

"_THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR SEXIST JOKES!" _she yelled out, her face red like a tomato, a thunderous ultimatum that shook Mr. Briefs into complacency. As he got rid of the highly volatile combination of Sunday clothes, Bulma was rampantly searching through a myriad of suits, jackets, tunics and blouses. Armani, Gucci, Dolce Gabbana, Pierre Cardin; you name it and it was there. Bulma looked upon her father with eyes that could shoot lightning bolts. While she did that however, the old man turned to gaze upon his watch. It appeared to be almost time, but he wasn't very worried, despite the rather strenuous ultimatum that the Desk-mop CIA usher had given him earlier. Mrs. Briefs had by now come out of the warmth of the bed, and had traipsed through the hallways to meet up with the two. Noticing this, the Doctor turned to her and smirked gleefully_"Stick the kettle on, dear..." _he spoke with a certain sardonic intonation. He would enjoy making them wait for him as he merrily went about his morning routines before finally showing up.

"_Hmm, formal grey will do a good number on you. You can count on it that Chiefs of Staff are wearing dark blue, with a lot of pins and stripes and all that. You want to stand out while blending in. Let's see."_

"_WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" _a sudden, raspy voice was heard from behind them, causing Bulma to keel over under the weight of all the clothing she was carrying. Vegeta had come around, wearing a pair of blue boxers and standing half-crouched in the door opening, looking with a bewildered stare as Bulma was lying there with her backside arching up on a pile of clothing next to her father wearing only his undies. Bulma shook her head to get up and sought out a nice, grey jacket and pantaloons as well as a mildly cream colored long-sleeve blouse and a grayish brown tie for her father to wear.

"_It's just my father acting like a fool..." _she mumbled, and gave both the men a stark stare, _"Just go back to bed, Vegeta, I'll be there in a few."_

"_Yeah, right!" _he growled, a vein pulsating on his temple as he slammed the wardrobe door shut behind him, going wherever his nature called him.

"_He's probably mad, 'cause he's not getting any..." _Mr. Briefs opted.

"_Put this on before I'll give you a lump on your forehead to remind you with what lumpy part of your body to think," _Bulma said with an unyielding hiss.

* * *

It was only shortly after that Mr. Briefs found himself standing outside, on the Capsule Corp lawn. The weather had changed a full 180 degrees since the last hour; clouds had come from nowhere, blotting out the still very starry sky, and the silence formerly only broken by twittering birds and early traffic was now almost constantly punctured by the rumblings in the air and a rather sudden heavy rainfall. Mr. Briefs just stood there, brandishing a black umbrella under which the constant sound of ticking rain drops almost calmed the senses. It was 6.06 in the morning, and the car that was promised to him was standing at the far end of the parking zone, the people inside of it making nondescript gestures. One of them was tapping the wheel, no doubt impatiently, and the engine had been deactivated to save on fuel; the avenue at which Capsule Corp laid was pretty long, though, and visibility was heavily impaired due to the heavy rainfall. A loud thunder stroke traveled through the skies from close by, the lag between light and sound barely existent. Despite the heavily disturbing sounds from the weather, the black cat seemed to not mind. It would remain almost impossibly complacent through this entire ordeal, until it would be surprised by even one stray drop of water. If that were to happen, it would wail its head off. Mr. Briefs mildly puffed his cigarette as he looked from side to side, wondering if there were snakes in the grass. Probably not, but he had seen enough movies in which the protagonist walked towards a totally black car. Very daunting atmosphere, with a smoke machine hard at work, those kind of scenes... A _DAF_ truck carrying Latvian milk puffed by as the Doctor walked quite easily towards the car, its engine starting and the lights activating, causing his eyes to narrow tightly. In the meantime, Mr. Briefs was quite intensely curious, and he was actually looking forward to this conference. All those big shots in one room catering to his expertise; this would be a gloat-fest from here to there and perhaps he could have a little bit of fun at the very same time. Yes, he was looking forward to it.

"_Ahh..." _Mr. Briefs smiled and would quite comfortably move to the side of the car, where he would wait for one of the nicely suited figures to step out and cordially invite him to sit in the back of this mobile fortress. Trained scientific eyes could see the triple bearings underneath the plastic bulwarks of the car door. It was armor plated, no doubt about that. It was quite unmistakably a Rolls Royce Phantom with tinted windows. He couldn't help but stifle a laugh. As the left-front window rolled down electrically, he could distinguish the driver; a young, strapping bloke that was wearing a tidy black tunic; real chauffeuring attire.

"_I can see where all the tax payers' dollars went..." _Mr. Briefs would speak coolly. The two men could not think of a fitting response.

"_Dr. Briefs, I presume?" _the young man said, with a rather familiar voice. Mr. Briefs simply gave a curt nod. The voice had been laden with some irritation, though, as clearly he was forced to wait half an hour for the old man to finally show himself. The youth would nod and open his door, stepping out. He seemed to ignore the drizzling rain, but Mr. Briefs dispensed the courtesy of shielding him with the umbrella as well, when he came out to open the door for him.

"_Please make yourself comfortable, doctor. There is soda and mineral water in the mini-bar."_

"_Thank you." _Mr. Briefs lightly lowered his right shoulder to allow the black cat to hop off inside of the car, meowing pleasantly as it scooted over to the right side. Then, he himself scooted inside and kind of clumsily closed the umbrella, putting it down on the floor and closing the car door almost synchronously with the young man that had just now resumed his position at the wheel.

"_Are there cigarettes as well? I appear to have forgotten my pack."_

"_There should be a pack of CAMELs in the compartment in your door, doctor," _the chauffeur spoke as he moved his foot to the gas pedal. In rest, you barely heard the engine, and as he accelerated with a majestic slowness, you still barely heard the engine. Mr. Briefs had taken to searching for the handle to open that door and as he found it and inspected the pack of _CAMEL_ cigarettes.

"_Not really my brand, but a bit of variation can't hurt," _he spoke, his good mood apparent.

"_Are you comfortable, doctor?" _the driver asked as he steered to the left at the first crossing

"_Oh, very. On another matter, I take it that you were the bloke that woke me up?"_

"_Indeed. My name is Adam Cutler, Agent-In-Training with the CIA. Sorry for the rude awakening."_

"_Oh, that's okay," _Mr. Briefs muttered. Once he was awake, his mood was generally positive.

"_I am responsible for your safety during travel. Is there anything I need be aware of; any... deficiencies or allergies on your part, doctor?" _Cutler asked.

"_No. I'm only allergic to nicotine deprivation." _With that, he took a drag and would slightly open his window with one of the buttons on the door. He found it amusing that the engine that rolled the windows up and down had two different speeds for some obscure reason. The light smoke curdled rather smoothly through the compartment of the car, Mr. Briefs comfortably spreading himself over the two back seats and the black cat quite happily jumping on his lap to go take another nap.

"_I don't want to come over rude or anything, eh... Adam, but how long is the travel going to take?"_

"_Let me think; we'll be at the Airport at about six, where a private plane will have been made ready for you. We depart from Satan City Airport at 6:28 AM and after a 4 and a half hour supersonic flight that will arrive at Arlington Municipal Airport at 5:25 PM Eastern Standard Time, I am to drive you to the Pentagon where you will have thirty minutes to rest up. The conference will commence at 6.30 PM."_

"_Busy schedule, I see..." _Mr. Briefs calmly mumbled and would play with one of the tips of his moustache while gently petting the sleeping cat with his wiry hand. He was glad that he had 5 hours on a plane to go; he might be able to catch some more shut-eye in flight, although he especially hoped that he could get some breakfast there as well as hold it in. Mr. Briefs had a notorious knack for airsickness. That darned pilot had better fly very smoothly.

It didn't take long for either man to deplete their respective reservoirs of conversation topics, and after a short while, Dr. Briefs had simply nested back in the seats, relaxing, and petting his cat with long, gentle strokes. The only sound in the compartment was the purring, and the only view that he had was the – also tinted – window pane between himself and the two agents in the front. On the other hand, it kept him mercifully free from having to force his mind on small talk. The rest of the ride towards the airport would occur without any incident, and the doctor listened to the radio for the time being. Its morning broadcast included some rock music, to help wake sleepy people up, a few rather bland name-the-band contest and a small news block, in which note was made of a dangerous gang dispute that plagued the city yesterday, but was timely resolved by the two resident super heroes.


	4. Bump

01:44:42


End file.
